


Love Bites

by Lumissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alive Marauders, Arguing, Coming Out, Cute, Drama, Family, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Making Out, Potter Family, Romance, Secret Relationship, Slash, happy era, old fashioned dating, supportive godfather, too much sugar kills you - or just makes you feel sick, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-03-02 12:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumissa/pseuds/Lumissa
Summary: On the spring of Harry’s 5th year, Harry and Draco kissed. During summer Harry decides to do something and confronts the Slytherin about it – only that he didn’t expect it to lead to a relationship. A secret one at that. His parents would kill him if they found out he was dating the Malfoy heir.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my new HP fic. I plan Love Bites to be a short one and mostly light romance with some serious undertones and teenage troubles. Hope you enjoy this short romance story with my favourite pairing and don’t forget to leave a comment – whether it’s negative or positive. I’d love to have both!
> 
>  **NOTE THIS** : In this world, Lily and James and other Marauders are alive. Peter didn’t betray them either and is still present in their lives. Voldemort’s also already dead, since Dumbledore and the rest of the Order killed him when Harry was a kid. In other words, Harry lives in a peaceful world.

Harry James Potter knew he had messed up his life the moment he’d let himself get bothered. But how did one ignore something so absurd and sudden? Especially when the source of that suddenness was Draco _whatever-the-hell-his-real-middle-name-was_ Malfoy who was Harry’s enemy and nothing more. But the bloody Gryffindor inside of him told him to do something about it since leaving issues unsolved would only mean he was running away – which he wasn’t.

With a distressed grunt Harry tried to push his wild hair down, tucking a tight muggle t-shirt he was wearing and hoping he’d let his mom to straighten the wrinkles after all. Normally he didn’t care what he was wearing, once he’d even went to an official party in red and yellow shorts and sandals (he didn’t want to remember how his parents had reacted to him leaving his shirt home), so he could only blame that bloody pretentious fashion-obsessed Malfoy of his self-consciousness. 

The said git sat right opposite of him, looking at his bowl of ice cream like it was more interesting than their conversation. Harry frowned. Was he to assume some things from that? Did it mean that Harry reaching out for Malfoy with a letter of asking to meet up was a mistake and actually didn’t mean anything to Malfoy? Did it mean that what had happened between them that spring was just a sick joke? 

Everything that had happened before that kiss? 

Harry shook his head, quickly glancing around the busy street of Diagon Alley. Witches and Wizards passing their table in front of Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour were dressed in light summer robes, many of them looking irritated due the beating heat that had bothered England for a month straight. It was only July and according to the Muggle news the weather would only get worse next month. 

Maybe the heat was getting to him too since he was sure people were giving glances at Harry and Malfoy’s table with horrified faces. What would his friends think if they actually saw Harry eating ice cream with his worst enemy? Possible worst enemy? Ex-enemy? Still an enemy that wanted to torment Harry with kisses?

He’d given Malfoy enough time to look like a snob that he was. The Gryffindor inside of him pushed him to demand an answer to a question that he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind. He must have been really desperate when he’d written to Malfoy of all people, willingly, asked him to meet up somewhere. 

But why had Malfoy chosen a place out in the open? They both had reputations to hold. What was wrong with him?

Harry opened his mouth but closed it then. How did one even confront situations like these, anyway?

“Malfoy.”

Striking grey eyes lifted up to his. Harry pushed his abdomen to force down the squishy feeling the intense stare caused in him. 

“We need to talk.”

Malfoy snorted, smiling thinly. “Really, Potter? I thought you only wanted to eat some ice with me in complete silence.”

Snarky, as always. Harry pursed his lips and deepened his scowl when Malfoy’s eyes momentarily flickered lower and then, once again, averted to that damned mint ice cream. It was green too, like everything Malfoy liked.

He hadn’t known Malfoys ate ice cream. It was like watching some strange creature eat something nasty as Malfoy lifted a spoonful of the cold delicacy into his mouth, grimacing when the coldness assaulted his teeth. Harry took a mouthful of his own vanilla flavoured one, not letting his eyes stray from the sight. Malfoy was now looking more annoyed than before, still stubbornly avoiding to look at Harry, until he finally snapped his eyes to him with a clenched jaw. It looked more pointed than ever.

“Just come out with it, Potter, and stop staring,” he snapped, tips of his ears turning red. Harry cleared his throat one more time. He wished he’d ordered a drink too. With a final glance around him and still not seeing anyone he knew around – he bet only the crazy people would go out to narrow streets like this when the heat wanted to kill you – he finally said,

“I need to talk to you.”

Malfoy looked like he wanted to rip his throat open. “Oh my god, Potter. I know you’re a little slow in your head but for Merlin’s sake stop repeating that!”

“Sorry.” Harry instantly bit his lip. He didn’t go apologizing to his enemies. Ex-enemies. Enemies.

“Whatever.” Grey eyes rolled around. “Now tell me what you wanted to talk about so badly it couldn’t wait till September. And don’t you dare to repeat that same sentence anymore!” He pointed at Harry with his long, delicate finger. Harry’s eyes strayed to it, his throat suddenly drier as he remembered all the places the same finger had touched almost two months ag—

It was like ripping off a bandage like his Mum often liked to say when Harry or James were putting off doing unpleasant things. 

“Why did you kiss me?”

Malfoy went stiff, his still pointing finger falling abruptly. Disbelief shone from his face. He looked like he wanted to utter something that usually Malfoy himself would find ridiculous but finally the pale face morphed into a frustrated one. 

He muttered something about idiot and slow Gryffindors and Harry felt like he should be insulted. But it was just Malfoy and Malfoy loved to insult him so he decided to concentrate on more important matters. Like getting out an answer. 

“Stop that and just tell me,” Harry insisted. Malfoy leaned back, still regarding him with an expression that didn’t say anything good about Harry.

“Bloody moron.” 

“Yeah, well, tell me something new,” Harry shot back. “Like something that answers my question.”

“You’re so daft.”

“Are you avoiding answering me?”

Arms folding against lean chest told Harry enough. And he called Harry an idiot. 

“Of course not.” Malfoy lifted his chin. “I just think you should know the answer by now.”

Harry tried to push his growing frustration down. “And how, pray tell me, would I know? I can’t read your bloody mind.”

Malfoy looked like he wanted to insult Harry more, like he wanted to point out every mistake Harry made while talking to Malfoy, but then something happened that made Harry forget how to breathe for a while. Malfoy’s face relaxed, lines smoothing out, but the rarest thing was the expression Malfoy was regarding him with. Harry didn’t know how he was supposed to look like when Malfoy shrugged at him, biting his bottom lip almost shyly. 

He felt stupid when he cleared his throat once again, wondering what had stuck there. 

Malfoy’s sigh cleared his mind enough to listen to what the other boy had to say. 

“I didn’t think you’d remember that kiss.”

Harry opened his mouth to tell how stupid that was but something made him take the insult back. Maybe it was the sincerity that Malfoy rarely showed or maybe the heat had put his fighting spirit down. He couldn’t help a suspicion creeping into his mind, though. Malfoy was a Slytherin and Slytherins never did anything without thinking a few steps ahead.

Instead of letting any of that out, he muttered, “How could I forget?”

Because how could he? How could he ever forget something like a kiss from Malfoy? Maybe Harry wasn’t the slow one here, after all. 

“I don’t know, we were pretty drunk back then… would you just stop looking around, Potter. No one’s here,” Malfoy snapped. Harry rubbed his neck, grinning bashfully. 

“You never know. My mom’s ears are sharp.”

Malfoy only shook his head.

“You’re ridiculous.” Harry didn’t know how to react to the lack of jab in Malfoy’s voice. He probably shouldn’t react in any way since the last time he’d cared too much of Malfoy’s doings had gotten him to this point. Ron had invited him to play Quidditch that day too but there he was instead, talking to that one person he’d never expected to have anything to do with on holidays. 

It was true, tough. He couldn’t forget and that was why his mind had finally given up after days of heated dreams of that night. It’d been just after the finals and the summer holiday was almost there. The O.W.L.s had been a nightmare to the fifth years so the Gryffindor house had decided to have an end-of-school party with other houses. At first they hadn’t invited any Slytherins because no one liked them – obviously – but then some Ravenclaw girl had invited her Slytherin boyfriend who had invited his Slytherin friends who had let the word of a party out and in the end resulting with half of the Slytherin house attending the party that had been only for the other three houses. Sure, Harry knew it was kind of unfair to leave people out like that just because they didn’t get along but, well, how could you blame them. 

It was a surprise that the night had went fairly well. There had been no fights other than couple of verbal ones but then everyone’d gotten too drunk to remember which house anyone belonged to. Only Harry and Malfoy had seemed to remember that detail and then Malfoy had done something and ruined it all.

He’d laughed at Harry’s joke and Harry quite liked people who thought he was funny. The firewhiskey had even made it so that he hadn’t considered Malfoy laughing at him in favour of making fun of him and suddenly they both had been relaxed enough to throw carefree jabs at each other. Somewhere closer to midnight Harry had finally shared the last of his drink with Malfoy and a little after that Malfoy had pushed Harry’s hair behind his ear. 

In present time, Harry pushed the same curl away again, letting his fingers trace the same path.

It might have been Harry who’d told Malfoy he’d always found the colour of his eyes fascinating but it’d definitely been Malfoy who’d told him his glasses were hideous and then followed it with a statement that at least they fit his facial structure and didn’t make him look like a complete potato-head. Harry still wasn’t sure whether or not that was a compliment. 

It’d been Harry who’d let his knee press against Malfoy’s knee, shifting closer on a loveseat. It’d been Malfoy who’d reached that gap and pressed his whiskey tasting lips on his. It’d been Harry who’d let his fingers run through the soft locks and finally Malfoy who’d looked at him with hooded eyes, hot breath hitting Harry’s lips, surprisingly warm hands making their way through Harry’s body like wanting to learn every nook and corner…

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Harry closed his eyes for a moment to block out the shine of the platinum blond hair and the stiffness of muscles he kind of wanted to smooth away. 

Harry wanted to repeat himself; they really did have to talk. 

“So why?”

Malfoy regarded him silently for a while, his posture not relaxing. “I just felt like it.” Harry couldn’t read his expression.

“Felt like it, huh?” Harry muttered to himself, mirroring Malfoy’s stiffness. “So you just suddenly became horny and wanted a make-out session? And with me because I just happened to be there?”

Harry didn’t know if that was for the best. He wanted to ignore the disappointment that almost made him leave right then and there but that meant going back to silent dinners, intrusive questions of his unusual distractedness and early mornings with fantasies of a boy he saw dreams of shagging. 

“What does it matter?” Malfoy snapped, banging the bowl to the table. Some by-passers jumped from the sudden sound. Malfoy seemed to inhale the whole atmosphere before continuing, “Or do you want it to matter?”

“Well, yeah.” Harry realized he’d said it too eagerly. “Uh, I mean, I just don’t want to be used like that.”

Malfoy raised his annoyingly perfect brow. 

“You know, you wouldn’t want to be taken advantage of either, right?”

“You were kissing me back quite eagerly, I might say.” 

Harry opened and closed his mouth, feeling his face flushing. “Oh, sod off, Malfoy.”

Malfoy’s smile was almost worth the embarrassment. 

“So you want it to matter?” Malfoy said. “That it was you and not anyone else.”

Harry was about to tell him to get lost one more time but somehow he didn’t feel like it. Malfoy hadn’t mocked him with the question, he’d just been curious. His face wasn’t as guarded as it usually was and even the stiff shoulders had come down a notch. Malfoy leaned in a little, playing with his spoon absentmindedly. 

He was waiting something, Harry realized with a start. But what? What should he answer? Harry could have read the boy wrong and what he’d read as something akin to hope was actually the Slytherin deviousness talking. In that case denying everything was the best option, going back to the way things were before spring, before winter when Malfoy hadn’t been that insufferable, before autumn when he’d caught Malfoy looking at him across classroom more often than not. But if Malfoy was actually being sincere for once, if he wanted the truth…

Harry always preferred the truth himself. He liked it when people were honest with him and didn’t regard him so lowly that he had to be lied to. Harry could use that same respect towards Malfoy – Slytherin or not, Malfoy was a respectable man with manners and only a bad temper – and some disgusting opinions. He definitely didn’t deserve Harry’s honesty… but Harry couldn’t lie. 

“Yeah.” Harry took a bite of his dessert. “I like it better when people kiss me because it’s me, not just because I happen to be there.”

Malfoy’s stance didn’t change but if possible, he looked a little less sure. Harry tried to recall his words but everything sounded just right for him.

“I’m not sure you understood my question,” Malfoy said calmly. “Did you want it to be you because it was me?”

Did he?

Oh lord, did he?

All colour drained from his face as he realized the truth. 

Bloody hell, he was in so much trouble. 

When Harry didn’t answer, Malfoy started to lean back, his face falling and hundreds of walls he wore daily coming up. Harry jumped up, suddenly panicking he’d put out that shimmer of hope for good. Malfoy froze. Harry froze and then rubbed the nape of his neck. 

“Uh,” Harry started and was ready for a snarky comment which never came. He relaxed a little, sitting down as he noticed people watching them curiously. “Maybe?”

Malfoy pursed his lips. “Maybe?”

Harry took a shaky breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

~*~*~*~

Written on January 6, 2018


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all comments and kudos! They made me super happy *sniff*

The next thing Harry noticed after leaving Diagon Alley was that he had apparently arrived home. He vaguely remembered passing familiar routes of Godric’s Hollow and nodding politely to always curious Mrs. Fyre who was tending her garden like every day at four o’clock. He’d come to his senses only when he noticed the white gate that led to the white two-store house with a blooming rose garden. At the gate Harry glanced around, wondering how exactly he’d gotten there. The last thing he remembered was Malfoy’s retreating back and his own shock that made it impossible to call the git back. 

Harry opened the gate, watching as it flung open. It made a soft creak, reminding Harry that he’d promised his dad to oil the hinges. Had it been yesterday or earlier? It didn’t really matter, anyway, since Harry could just do it later that day. He still didn’t move, wondering why the hell he kept seeing Malfoy’s retreating back in his eyes when he could have just went inside. 

_“I see. Well then, I’ll see you soon.”_

Harry stepped through and smashed the small gate close. The loud noise made the birds eating near their house fly away and neighbour’s nosy lady peer at him like he was some kind of criminal. Harry forced a tight smile on his lips and waved to the woman. Mrs. Fyre gave him a small wave back but it was clear she wanted nothing more than find a good moment to complain about Harry to Harry’s mom. 

Harry’s mind filled with not good words for both the woman and the blond git. 

The blond git got the worst of it, too. 

Harry definitely wasn’t stomping towards the front door but as he tried to push Malfoy’s words out of his mind, more impossible it became to not kick the light gravel towards the garden. 

Draco-Bloody-Malfoy had just ditched him!

Gritting his teeth, Harry tried again; Draco-Bloody-Malfoy had made fun of him like always and called Harry’s bullshit. Then he’d left, leaving Harry to feel horrible about the whole ordeal. 

It hadn’t been bullshit, though, Harry reminded himself. Lying hurt, especially when it was towards himself and about his own feelings. He’d admitted to Malfoy that he’d wanted the kisser to be Malfoy and the one Malfoy wanted to kiss to be Harry himself. He’d admitted it, there was nothing to do about that now. A small part of him was relieved that he’d gotten it out of his chest and now he could continue with his life like he did before Malfoy put his big mouth into it – literally. 

There was that and then there was the emptiness that came from the rejection. It’d been one of the weirdest rejections of Harry’s life; Malfoy had stared at Harry with wide eyes and slack mouth and then hid it all behind one of his famous pure-blood bullshit masks. He’d nodded, eating the rest of his ice cream and then just said,

“I see.” He’d taken longer pause, pale fingers playing with the spoon. He’d given him a smile. 

_A smile!_

If that wasn’t a sign of the upcoming ridiculing of Harry because he’d admitted his small kind-of-crush to the crush himself then nothing was. 

Malfoy had gotten up from his seat and said, “I’ll see you soon, Potter.”

And left. Just left. No explanation, no other reaction to his confession other than _“I see”_. What the hell was Harry supposed to tell from that? Last year Harry had heard Ginny talk with her friends about some guy who’d said something vague about seeing Ginny soon and all the girls had been sure the guy would never talk to her again. They’d called him a pig and a coward who didn’t have enough courage to reject Ginny. Malfoy was the same, wasn’t he? Soon actually meant _never_ or _I’m going to tell this to my equally horrible friends and we’re going to laugh so much_.

Cool air hit Harry’s face as he stepped inside. He hadn’t even noticed how sweaty and hot he was until the cooling spell had wrapped itself around him, calming down his shallow breathing and burning skin. The only downside was when a thud in his head made itself present too once he relaxed enough. Rubbing his temples, he wondered whether or not he should take a headache potion or just give up for today and go to sleep.

The door had probably informed the house he was home since soon after an identical messy hair poked out of the kitchen.

“Hey,” James greeted with a thin smile. His skin was glistering with beads of sweat too, a tell-tale of him coming home only moments earlier. He looked like Harry – like wanting to go to sleep into the freezer but couldn’t since he knew he’d only be bothered soon.

“Hey,” Harry muttered. He didn’t even try to smile back. 

“Pretty hot, huh?” 

Sometimes he wished his dad didn’t see a need to start every conversation with light small talk of the biggest news of the day. Though, Harry could appreciate that the biggest news was only the murdering weather, not the murdering wizard his parents had taken down alongside Dumbledore and the rest of the Order only five years ago.

With a sigh, Harry resigned to his destiny. “Sure. Got any lemonade there?”

James’ smile became more genuine. “Yeah. Lils made some today before going to work. It should still be good.”

James disappeared back into the kitchen and Harry followed a little after. He took slower steps than usually, taking a quick look of himself in the mirror before he would step in front of his Auror father. His mind kept going back to the earlier conversation but outside he looked surprisingly calm, other than a little distressed which was easy to blame on the heat. He quickly swiped his forehead, grimacing at the feeling. 

“Harry? You coming?”

Harry started out of his examination and rushed to the kitchen. James had already placed two tall glasses of lemonade on the table and the way they had fogged from the coldness of the drink made Harry forget everything for the first time in months. He began to drink the heavenly beverage. His mom made some mean lemonade. 

When the glass made contact with the light birch table, Harry noticed James hadn’t went on with his blabbing like he usually did. There was a deep frown between his eyes as he stared intently at one point in the distance. Harry looked behind himself, following the line of gaze, but saw nothing but a pale peach and flowery wallpaper that had decorated their walls as long as Harry could remember. 

“Uh, dad?” 

James hummed in answer but Harry bet he hadn’t heard him.

“Dad? Everything okay?”

James let his head lift from his palm as he finally looked at Harry. He blinked rapidly, clearing his throat in a way Harry had done a lot that day. The younger Potter couldn’t help a small smile, wondering what his mom would say if she was home. 

“Yeah, sorry, son. Did you need something?” There was the smile again; weak and missing the usual confidence it had. 

“No, just, you don’t look too good.” Harry poured more lemonade. “Something wrong at work?”

James hummed quietly, leaning back in his chair. “You could say that,” he sighed. “But, really, it’s nothing new. Just some trouble with some… ministry workers with strong opinions.” He folded his arms against his chest and continued, “They’re not nice opinions.”

“Oh.” Harry never knew what to say to that. He knew James had trouble with certain people in the Ministry of Magic – sometimes it just went too far and resulted with stressed James. Harry swore he’d never become an Auror if it meant fighting with obnoxious people daily over stupid issues. 

“It’s just, can’t Lucius Malfoy stuff his unpopular opinions at least once?” Harry almost choked to his drink. “He knows he was on the wrong side during the war so why the hell would he mention renovating Muggle Born Laws when he barely avoided getting thrown into bloody Azkaban – sorry my language.”

“Lucius Malfoy, huh?” Harry rasped, heart thumbing against his ribs painfully. He grimaced for real when James nodded, almost banging his fist to the table.

“I can’t believe him! First he buys his way to the Ministry, then out of all Death Eater charges and now he dares to come up with laws that will, let me quote, _keep the unwanted attention towards underage magic Muggle Born witches and wizards perform less noticeable through necessary strict methods_. And that’s not even the worst part!” James leaned in like telling a secret he wanted no one else to hear. “Fudge agrees. This is ridiculous!”

The words flew through Harry’s head without staying long enough for him to comprehend what his dad really meant. The face of Draco Malfoy with tentative hope smoothing out the permanent worry lines flashed more stark than anything else. Somehow he knew, though, that both seeing the younger Malfoy’s face and the hateful words of his dad towards the older one would be a bad combination. 

“Uhuh.” Harry swallowed. “That’s pretty bad.”

James frowned at him and Harry rushed to continue, “I mean, it’s really bad! The laws don’t have to be any tighter than this.”

“Yeah,” James said slowly but didn’t venture further into his son’s quietness about the issue. “They wanted to place some magical restraints on Muggle born children once they showed their first magic so that it wouldn’t happen again until they went to Hogwarts.”

Harry stared. “What? That’s wrong! Restraining magic will only--”

James simply nodded, running his hand through his tired face. “You tell me. Anyway, many others were against it too so there’s a good chance the suggestion won’t go through.”

They sat in a tense silence for a while. 

“It’s actually good that you were smart enough not to befriend that Malfoy brat back in your first year.”

Harry’s blood froze. “Sorry?”

“You know, when he offered to be your friend and you said no. Back in the first year. You told us in your letter, remember?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Harry chuckled awkwardly. He didn’t dare to look at the brown eyes, he bet his dad knew legilimency by how well James always guessed the reason for his worries. 

“Harry. You’ve been acting kind of weird lately.” James reached for Harry’s hand over the table. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Of course, dad,” Harry said quickly and jumped up. James’ hand fell to the table, startling the man. Harry forced out a laugh and a confident smile. “You’re absolutely right with everything you said. Of course you’re right because you always know everything.”

“Harry…”

“I’m kind of tired so I’m going to sleep for a while.” 

“Harry.”

Harry exhaled loudly. “Yeah, sorry, um, I’m rambling, I guess. It’s just the heat, dad. Nothing else.” He nodded like he was trying to reassure either himself or his dad. “Heat. It’s pretty bad, after all.”

James nodded back, looking lost. “Yeah, heat.” He at least sounded sympathetic so Harry let himself relax a little. He hesitated only for a second before almost ran out of the room and up the stairs into the isolation of his own room. It was cooled too and that made Harry feel a bang of guilt. He could have been more honest and at least give half a truth. There was no way he could have mentioned anything about the kiss and the kind-of-confession but he could have told that he’d accidentally met Malfoy at the ice cream parlour and they’d exchanged couple of impolite words. That was the reason Harry felt like suffocating himself to his pillow, after all. Impolite words.

Harry fell to his bed face first and snuggled the pillow. Absentmindedly his fingers started to pick the hem of a ruby red pillowcase he’d gotten from Uncle Peter for Christmas. It had a Gryffindor lion in it which roared whenever Harry put his head on it. Usually he loved to annoy the drawn lion as he smashed his head to the pillow over and over again but this time not even a funny animation was able to make him forget the Malfoys. 

Especially the younger one. The more handsome one who’d ruined his life with not being a good drunk. 

Harry whined to the softness and then grunted. It was no use to dwell over it. Lucius Malfoy was a bastard who made lives hard but Draco Malfoy was a git who didn’t bring anything but crashed dreams with him. With that thought Harry made up his mind and decided to forget the Slytherin for good. He’d been rejected in a cruel way so that was it. The next time Harry had to see the boy was when the school started – that meant over a month of getting his head together.

It should be enough.

It should have been but there was one thing Harry had learn about his life and it was that nothing ever went according to the plan. Not when he’d decided to steal the best chocolate cookies ever - that his mom rarely made - before dinner, not when he’d decided to blow up the girls’ bathroom before Christmas Holidays, not when he’d wanted peace from his adoring fans that only liked him because his parents happened to be famous war heroes…

Not when he’d just decided to forget Malfoy only to find the said boy knocking on his bloody door the day after their conversation looking all groomed and handsome. 

Harry shook himself mentally, taking the sight in once again. 

Draco Malfoy was standing at his doorstep, dressed in a green button-up that must’ve been killing him together with the sun, and snug black jeans that looked dangerously like Muggle clothing. Draco Malfoy never wore Muggle clothes or anything that had a Muggle in it. Harry gripped the handle harder, willing the sudden dryness of his throat to go away. 

He didn’t seem to know how to stand steady but so didn’t Malfoy. After every passing second that Harry took in Malfoy’s appearance and stopping himself from touching Malfoy’s hair to see if it felt as soft as it looked – or as he remembered it to be – Malfoy grew more and more agitated. The impatience was clear on his perfect, pointy face. 

“Would you stop gawking at me like a doofus and get on with it,” Malfoy finally snapped. A wince escaped Harry’s lips before he could stop it. He tried to find right words for what he saw and what he thought but it seemed that the only thing clear for him was how good Malfoy’s skin looked in green. Oh holy—

“Harry, who is it?”

Lily’s voice snapped Harry out of his stupor but instead of answering something to either, he pushed Malfoy out of the way and closed the door after them. Then he ran. Grabbed Malfoy’s arm and just went for it. He heard spluttering that must have been Malfoy commanding him to stop. Harry didn’t listen and stopped only when they were couple of blocks away from his house and his curious mother. Bloody hell. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, Potter?” Malfoy almost yelled. His face was flushed, either from rage or exercise, and the disgusted expression he regarded Harry with would have made Harry snort in any other moment. Now he had one close call and too many questions on his back to just laugh at what he’d done to the perfect Malfoy. 

“What’s wrong with me?” Harry snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “What’s wrong with you? What were you doing at my house? What if my parents had seen that you—“

“Is that what this is about? You’re scared your parents will see us together.” Malfoy’s voice was calm but the way the disgust fell off of his face, leaving an empty look, made Harry look down. Suddenly it felt like the situation was his fault and like Harry was the only one who had common sense left. Malfoy sounded like he didn’t care if people saw them together even though he’d made clear through the years together in school that Harry’s upbringing didn’t meet his standards. With a shake, Harry refused to be the one to feel guilty over nothing. 

“Yeah and that’s completely normal,” Harry said, trying to justify his words with pushing himself to talk. He stared at Malfoy, showing he didn’t care how he looked more emotionless with every sentence Harry aimed at him. “If you haven’t noticed, my parents aren’t exactly the fans of yours or you.”

Malfoy opened his mouth but Harry cut him off. 

“And believe me, I’ve been listening to your nonsense these five years – even when I pretended to ignore you.”

A memory of a thirteen-year-old Draco Malfoy sneering at Hermione calling her a ‘mud-blood’ and then proceeding to insult Harry’s Muggle born mom and Ron’s ‘blood-traitor’ family. Suddenly it wasn’t as hard to ignore Malfoy’s crest-fallen face and hunched shoulder. Not even when they were the most uncharacteristic thing he’d seen Malfoy to do ever. Harry kind of wanted to push the boy back to his stiff, straight posture and lift chin just so it’d be even easier to point out Malfoy’s flaws. 

Malfoy muttered something. Harry frowned. “What? I can’t hear you.”

“I said I haven’t done that for a while now!”

Harry folded his arms tightly against his chest. “Oh, yeah? What about that time when…” Harry tried to bring up a memory of Malfoy with his asshole-ish opinions. The latest he could remember was at the beginning of their fourth year when Malfoy had said couple of his usual threats that were nothing but talk but even then they hadn’t included anything about upbringing. Only about Harry being a self-centred golden boy with nothing but famous parents to which Harry had said Malfoy to be nothing but an ill-minded snob with a rich father. After that they’d both went their respectable ways and only shared many glares and quick thoughtful glances since then. 

Harry snapped his mouth shut, hiding his burning face with rubbing his cheek. Malfoy smiled smugly, all white teeth showing. 

“Well, it doesn’t matter when and what you did,” Harry tried, looking at Malfoy’s neat, polished shoes. At least they were still the usual him if not the rest of his outfit. “But you did something sometime and that’s what matters.”

“Sure. And fuck you too.” 

Harry’s face burned more. He tried to scratch it away as Malfoy still kept smiling at Harry the way that made Harry flustered. All knowingly and amused. Almost tenderly. 

Malfoy had a really nice smile. He’d smiled a lot back in May, especially after his lips had been on Harry’s. 

Only Harry’s inner pride kept him from bolting right then and there as well as the disappointment of yesterday. 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Harry finally said, sighing inwardly. 

“Me? What do you think?” Harry seriously wasn’t up to any cryptic stuff right then. Malfoy had to have seen it from Harry’s face since he simply said, “I’m here because of yesterday’s confession, of course.”

“It wasn’t a confession,” Harry tried. 

Malfoy didn’t listen to him. “I’m taking you to a dinner.”

Harry thought he’d heard wrong.

“Stop gawking, Potter. You look as intelligent as a troll.”

“A-a dinner?” Harry looked around them to see if there were a bunch of Slytherins around them, waiting for the right moment to burst laughing. They were all alone, only couple of curious neighbours peering to the street through their windows. 

“Yes, a dinner, Potter,” Malfoy said dryly. “Dinner’s an occasion where one or more people enjoy good food with drin—“

“I know what a dinner is,” Harry muttered, looking sullen. Malfoy snorted. 

“Whatever you say, darling.”

Harry choked as his heart jumped to his throat. 

“Come on, then,” Malfoy called as he started to walk towards the church. “I’m not going to wait if you get lost.”

Harry watched as Malfoy walked for what felt like a full minute, feeling a sense of Deja vu. Only when Malfoy actually looked back to see whether Harry was following or not, Harry dared to move. His head spun as he tried to find a reason for Malfoy to do this and only one that made any sense was that Malfoy wanted to make fun of Harry’s feelings. Of course. At least Harry was aware of the plan now so he wouldn’t get hurt like he’d yesterday. 

Despite this he still felt like one of them was going to die tonight and by the way Malfoy had made him react, he was sure it was Harry. 

~*~*~*~*~

“I can’t believe the quality of that place!” Draco exclaimed as Harry followed him out of the cosy family diner. The bell above the door made a soft chime but no one thanked them or asked them to come again. Harry grimaced. He couldn’t blame the poor workers; the moment they’d set a foot to the place Malfoy had led Harry to, Malfoy had declared with his best self-important voice what a dumpster the place was. It’d been painful to see the waitress to smile at them with a throbbing jaw as she’d taken their orders. 

“Did you see the napkins? They were absolutely plain.”

“Well, I thought it was nice,” Harry muttered, offended for the restaurant. 

Malfoy snorted, not meeting his eyes as he stomped the streets of Godric’s Hollow. “Of course you did.” The night had already fallen but the air was still sultry, boding a storm. The sun had almost set, painting the horizon with orange and pink, making the whole world feel like it wasn’t even real. The whole evening was starting to feel unreal for Harry – from the fact that Malfoy had set his foot to a Muggle diner on his own free will to that the dinner actually even happened resulting with both of them not dead. 

Harry had probably stuck into a dream and when he woke up he’d be back in Hogwarts, ready for the party that had yet to happen. Harry smoothed out the orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt he’d gotten from Ron for his birthday, recalling how ruthlessly Malfoy had made fun of it. It hadn’t been that bad, thought. Harry had actually surprised himself with laughing once when Malfoy made especially snide remark of the team’s success. It must have been the first time Harry agreed with the boy.

“Well, I’m not setting my foot in that place ever again.” Malfoy lifted his chin, looking disgusted. “If my father ever heard about this…”

“Why did you take me there then if it was so horrible?” Harry snapped, shutting Malfoy up. The said boy peeked at Harry from the corner of his eye, seemingly hesitating. 

“Maybe I chose it because I knew you wouldn’t like fancier places,” Malfoy said, looking uninterested but the way he shrugged a little too forcibly told other story. Harry blinked, wondering if someone had replaced Malfoy and the bloke standing in front of him was but a cheap copy. 

It all made sense. It had to be a copy since there was no way Harry would have otherwise actually enjoyed – only a little bit – the evening. Even though Malfoy had been his usual insufferable self, he’d still made effort to not rise on Harry’s bait. When Harry had expected Malfoy to snap at him, he’d only shook his head, said something with that unfamiliar teasing tone Harry had never heard Malfoy talk to him with. Like he’d wanted to start joking around with Harry – and Harry had automatically answered that, too confused to try to remember how he should have acted. 

“So you’re trying to tell me you’re interested in me enough to know what kind of places I prefer?” Was Harry’s own tone teasing? 

“No!” Malfoy looked scandalized. He kept crossing his arms against his chest and the movement made Harry look down there every time. Malfoy was thin but lean. Years of playing Quidditch were apparent from his chest, covered by a mere piece of tight clothing. It was distracting. “I didn’t even have to look it up. Trust Witch Weekly to make at least one article of the son of famous war heroes once a week and tell your preference towards casual and cosy in every other sentence.”

“Um, Witch Weekly?” Harry bit his lip, corners tucking into a smile. “You read Witch Weekly?” 

Harry couldn’t stop his grin when Draco looked at him with shock, body ready to fight Harry if he even dared to say another word. Harry burst out into a laughter. 

“Potter!” Malfoy pushed Harry’s shoulder, making the boy merely stumble. Bubbling in Harry’s stomach intensified as he watched Malfoy mutter half-hearted threats under his breath. 

After a calming breath, Malfoy said slowly, “No, I do not read that rubbish.” Harry tilted his head. “I swear. I don’t even have to since I hear everything from Pansy. And occasionally from Mother. But she doesn’t read that kind of rubbish either, only when there’s some convenient information inside.”

“Witch Weekly offers convenient information?” 

“Oh, sod off, Potter or I’ll hex you.”

A little winded, Harry finally stumbled after Malfoy, enjoying the peacefulness of the streets. It was like they were the only people in the whole village. “You know, it was nice of you,” Harry said, only smiling more when he saw the fed up face of the other boy. He wished he could have reach out to brush the frown away. “To think of me, I mean. You’re right, I would have hated a place of your usual standards.”

Malfoy nodded, looking pleased. “Well, I know that you Gryffindors can be sappy with things like this so I wanted to give the best first impression.”

“And insulting the place and its staff is the best first impression of your standards?” 

“I just did it for your amusement,” Malfoy said. His lips tucked into a lopsided smile too. Suddenly it was harder for Harry to remember how walking happened without concentrating to it too much. A silence fell over them as they continued their walk, walking much slower than either of them usually walked. It felt like they had the whole time in the world – which was ridiculous since Harry’s parents would expect him home before ten and Malfoy was a son of an old wizarding family that must have even stricter rules. 

Harry tried to look at Malfoy from the corner of his eye, taking in the way Malfoy bit his lip like every time he was worried over something and how his expressions suddenly seemed to be livelier now that he thought Harry wasn’t looking. Harry had noticed the same last year when he’d just happened to glance towards Malfoy during Potions class while they were trying to figure out a secret of the potion Snape had ordered them to investigate. Malfoy had tucked the tips of his hair, then suddenly stopped like someone petrified him and finally rushed to write down his analysis with shining eyes, eagerness that he never showed otherwise… 

“What?”

Present Malfoy looked at Harry with intensity that made Harry’s toes curl. Tops of Malfoy’s ears were pink, teeth biting down uncertainly. Harry wanted to reach out to them and stop the boy from assaulting his own lip. He could do it for him, instead.

Harry’s eyes widened and he averted his gaze. “Nothing,” his voice wavered. He winced at his invisible lie. “I mean, your hair was just in a wrong place and I…”

He what? 

That was even worse than the truth!

“My hair,” Malfoy stated, “Is flawless. So stuff it, Potter.”

It seemed that Harry’s smiles were easy to draw out that day. “It is quite nice.”

Malfoy sniffed. “ _Quite nice_ isn’t enough to describe the way it is.” Harry just chuckled. “I mean it.” For some reason Malfoy’s eyes flashed like Harry had challenged him. For the first time ever Harry didn’t want to answer the challenge – he wanted something completely different. 

“Sure. I just gave it a compliment, didn’t I?” 

Malfoy scowled, pursing his similarly perfect lips. Harry liked the way they seemed to show more feelings than Malfoy’s stiff posture did. “Yes, quite indifferent one, may I add.” 

Harry shrugged, turning away. 

“Just try it.”

Harry stopped and almost stumbled. It took another second to stutter, “Excuse me?”

Harry stopped breathing as Malfoy bent forward, almost like bowing to Harry. Platinum hair came right under Harry’s nose, showing that even the top of Malfoy’s head had no stray hair in it. A spicy, musky smell made Harry take a deep breath in, his hands reach forward. They touched the top of the head first tenderly, then sinking in, letting the soft locks flow through his tips.

He went right back to the night when he’d tucked the same hair – pulled, messed, gripped. Harry pushed down the urge to pull the head back and press his lips onto Malfoy’s and taste him now that he was sober. How did Malfoy taste like? Harry’s memory only knew firewhiskey but that wasn’t right. 

Harry let his fingers grip a bunch of locks one more time, letting his hand fall limp. Malfoy shuddered visibly. 

“It’s,” Harry started, taking a minute to orient his thoughts. “You were right, it’s flawless.” 

Malfoy lifted his head, meeting Harry’s eyes under light bangs that fell over his eyes, messing up the image of perfect. He was even more beautiful than before. The heat in Malfoy’s eyes, the flush on his pale skin and the way he whispered out a simple, “yeah” which was far from the Malfoy-ish way Harry was used to, it all made it hard to concentrate.

It wouldn’t take much to reach out, just to feel if Malfoy’s skin felt as hot as it looked. 

Malfoy was the one to break the pregnant silence. “I should probably escort you home.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, not really understanding the words. But then Malfoy moved away, heading the way Harry’s home was and the words started to make even less sense. 

“Wait!” Malfoy stopped, looking back with raised brows. “Escort? Me? Home?”

“Wow, well done, Potter,” Malfoy snorted. “You can speak words now. The next step would be forming intelligent sentences.”

“Malfoy.” Harry’s voice sounded almost like a whine and Malfoy gave up with a roll of the eyes. 

“I don’t get what part you didn’t understand,” he said. Tenderly. Harry couldn’t get angry with him despite all the insults his words had. “It’s only good manners to do so. And before you say you’re not a bloody girl I know that and if you were I wouldn’t even be interested in you, you oaf.”

“You’re interested in me?” 

Malfoy looked at him like he had no idea what was going on. “Of course. Why else would I have taken you out on a date?” He went quiet for a moment when Harry only stared. “You realize this was a date, right?”

“Of course.” Harry might have snapped that but Malfoy didn’t point it out. He only continued,

“Good. Then you should probably know that I am a very traditional man and escort my date home after dining them.”

So that’s why he’d insisted paying for Harry. And Harry, after telling the other boy off many times, had agreed since it meant free food and he’d at least informed Malfoy he was capable of paying for himself. 

But it’d been a date? Suddenly a lot of things made sense. 

“But you ditched me yesterday after I confessed.” 

Malfoy blinked. “Ditched? Well, yes, I left quickly but only because it was time for lunch at the Manor.”

“But you said see you around!” 

“No. I said see you _soon_.” Malfoy scowled. “I intended to take you on a date but wasn’t sure how soon. What is your problem, Potter? Did you need a confession of my eternal love for you?”

“No, but…” Harry didn’t even dare to try to finish that sentence. Instead he blushed and crossed his arms. Bloody git. To hell with him. He could have at least said _something_.

Malfoy sighed and light steps told he was coming back. Pair of black shoes appeared under Harry’s eyes. “Okay, maybe I should have said more,” Malfoy admitted, gritting his teeth. Harry pulled out his best sceptical look. “But it’s not like me to go out saying mushy things.”

“Mushy things?” Harry let out a snort and Malfoy’s shoulders relaxed. 

“I knew you were a mushy Gryffindor but even this much? Merlin.” Malfoy shook his head in disbelief. “Let me phrase this out to you, then. But don’t get too used to it.”

The way he took Harry’s face into his hands, rubbing his thumb against his cheek, made Harry light-headed. “I kind of like you, despite you being an idiot and always arguing with everything I say. I like the way you smile and get excited when you fly on your broom and I kind of like it too when you tell me to go to hell when I insult your friends—“

Harry didn’t listen to him, he just smashed his lips against Malfoy’s. He’d done enough restraint. Malfoy didn’t taste like whiskey. On the contrary, his taste lacked the heaviness and was instead surprisingly fresh. 

Citrus.

Harry bit the bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. Malfoy shuddered in his arms, gasping. It was so close that Harry’s restraint snapped for good but with one more brush of the lips, Malfoy answering to it just as tenderly, he pulled away swallowing his need. 

Malfoy was beautiful. The way Harry had made him breathless and glowing made Harry’s stomach ache as he let the other boy go, letting his fingers linger a little longer. 

Harry was done for, wasn’t he? 

With how much he seemed to want Malfoy, there was no way he could go back to the time he’d kept denying his attraction. 

He just had to find a way to never let his parents find out or else their relationship would end as fast as it started. 

~*~*~*~

Written on 9.1.2018


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo, guys! **There’s couple of things I wanted to tell you so I’d appreciate if you read this note**. Thank you so much for all the attention you’ve been giving to Love Bites! Every single notification made me happy and makes it easier to get through graduation. Yes, graduation. This brings me to the topic I probably should have said in the first chapter. I’m writing my thesis right now and I still have couple of courses and exams to take which means I’m going to be busy till May and yet, here I am, writing fanfiction. I just wanted to mention that even though I’ve made time every day to write, there might be a time when updating takes a little longer than a week. I hope it won’t come to that especially when I really love this story already and it’s more like a way to relax to me in the middle of all the academic shit I have to go through. 
> 
> The second point I wanted to say is that I’ll try to keep **Monday** the day I update (I live in Finland so it’s usually my Monday, just so you know if you wonder :D). So each chapter will take a week to come out unless, like I said earlier, University demands too much time and energy and I need to push the date one more week. In any case, the date will always be Monday since then I have a clear deadline and more time to write the next chapter.  
>  (I’m saying this after I wrote the note above couple of days ago because I think I might not be able to make it next week. I’m going to be out of town for the whole weekend and until then I have only one night to spare for writing. Even then it’s after lectures and I’m afraid I’ll be dead tired and just want to go to sleep. I haven’t started the fourth chapter yet (I was supposed to but I wasn’t happy with this chapter so I rewrote it three times) so I’m afraid it’s impossible to write a good chapter for next Monday. I’ll try but if I’m not updating next week you know why. Sorry about this. Also, sorry, I still feel like this chapter’s sloppy and not good. I tried to edit it tonight but once again I’m tired so a lot of details escaped my eyes. If you see any, please point them out for me and I’ll get back to them asap!) 
> 
> Thank you for your attention and sorry for a long ramble. Please enjoy!

Chapter 3

Harry would be lying if he said he’d handled yesterday’s situation smoothly. He liked to think that after the kiss with Malfoy he’d had looked cool and composed as he bid Malfoy a good night and walked the rest of the way alone since Malfoy was too baffled to follow him. Harry had swept the Slytherin’s feet under him.

Or at least that was how it’d went in his dream. In the same dream Harry had also tamed a wild dragon, showing it off to Malfoy and then giving him a ride. 

Real life wasn’t that merciful.

Every time Harry remembered that he hadn’t exactly walked away from Malfoy, smiling at the boy confidently, he wanted to drown into the glass of water he was trying to get down his throat. Instead, a whimpered _“holy shit”_ and the way his face must have burnt while practically leaping from the scene were forever burned into his mind. He didn’t want to face that smug face ever again after that. He might have half ran home, leaving the definitely confused Slytherin behind. 

By now he should have been used to it. Kissing. With Malfoy. It’d been their second time and somehow it’d been even better than the first. If Harry hadn’t been so scared of what that realization might mean, he would have snogged Malfoy some more right then and there under everyone’s eyes. 

Not that there had been anyone around but it’d still been in the middle of the street. Harry hadn’t even remembered that until he’d gotten home to his worried parents. Then he’d realized that if someone had seen them fondling each other right under everyone’s eyes, his parents would have found out fast. Nothing stayed a secret in their village for long. Sometimes Harry wished they lived either in such a deserted area that no one would even live close to them or in the middle of busy London streets where no one knew anyone. 

Thank Merlin he’d had half a mind to leave then. Even though he seriously could have done it better. Now he’d basically handed good blackmailing material to one of the most devious Slytherins ever and he was sure despite all the confessions going around between them – Harry couldn’t even shake the sweet words out of his mind – Malfoy wouldn’t hesitate to find a good time to use Harry’s love-struck reaction against him.

Fuck.

”Harry?”

Harry grunted lowly, barely glancing at his mother. He still couldn’t bear to look at her after yesterday. He was an easy laughing-stock for everyone, wasn’t he? Yesterday Lily had been there, waiting right next to the door and looked so worried Harry had wanted to bury himself alive. It only occurred to him then that he’d left in quite a hurry without explaining anything or answering her question about who was at the door. He’d ducked under her fierce eyes and tried to mumble something about a friend who’d needed immediate help. It was a weak excuse, Harry knew it, especially when he always told his parents first if he was going somewhere. Even a few years back when Hermione had went into the hospital after being in a car accident he had had enough time to tell them where he was going. 

James had been outside too, standing next to Lily with his arms crossed, shaking his head disappointedly. Harry had wanted to snap at him that he was no better considering what he and his gang had been doing in Hogwarts. But he knew an explosion would have brought more questions to him and he wanted to avoid those. 

“Harry. I’m talking to you.”

Someone called him just now, right? Harry hummed, trying to listen. He concentrated his gaze momentarily on the plate of fish that he was trying to go through. He pushed it around with his fork, making smiley faces with sharp noses and couldn’t help but smile back at them. 

“Oh sweet Merlin,” a feminine voice grunted. “Harry!”

Harry lifted his eyes off the table, huffing. “What?”

He’d expected to see his mom to look at him at best, maybe even his dad since he recalled hearing his voice too, but when he met the full table of people staring at him with various expressions, Harry slid down his chair. He met each pair of eyes briefly, even the eyes of the smallest member who had no idea what was going on, but probably thought it was some funny game the grownups had come up with. 

Little Amy was Uncle Peter and Aunt Maude’s princess, the newest addition of the family. Harry smiled at her briefly, getting out a happy gurgle of her, and one set of eyes was off of him as she began to eat – more like smash around – her food. Peter next to her turned his hesitant eyes away too, trying to make Amy stop messing the Potters’ kitchen. 

It was the usual Saturday dinner they were having with their dysfunctional family that included all the Marauders, Lily, Harry himself, Peter’s wife and their daughter. Harry was sorry he missed them most of the year because of school so usually he paid close attention to them during summer and Christmas. This summer, though, he might have been more distracted than fully on board with their conversations. 

“Everything okay, pup?” Sirius’ hand flew to mess up Harry’s already messy hair, bringing Harry out of his embarrassment. With a snicker he tried to fight off the hand, earning an eye roll from Remus. Sirius just huffed, breathless of their quick hand wrestling. 

“Kids, stop playing at the table,” Lily called but the look in her eyes wasn’t angry. Only amused. And curious as well as worried. Harry tried to hide his heating face with coughing to his fist and then concentrating on the meal. He pushed his fish around one more time.

“It’s really good, Mom,” Harry said, smiling. Lily looked at him with a straight face.

“So good you’ve already eaten it all?” She looked pointedly at his plate. Harry grinned, shrugging innocently. 

“The fish doesn’t like me?”

“Oh for Godric’s sake.”

James frowned as he stared at Harry’s plate too. Harry felt a ridiculous urge to hide his meal, feeling like people could read his thoughts through it. Considering how closely they seemed to inspect it, it wouldn’t even be a surprise at this point. Stranger things had happened lately, after all; like Malfoy asking Harry on a date and being a brilliant kisser. 

Harry sighed. 

He wished he had had enough sense to ask Malfoy when they were going to see again. He could just owl him but it would have convinced Harry more that this thing between them was real. This thing. There actually was a thing. His wank fantasies weren’t just fantasies anymore and now that he wasn’t trying to push down his growing feelings he felt he saw everything clearer. One thing was quite unclear, though; could he call Malfoy his boyfriend now or was it too early? Oh Lord, did he want to call him his boyfriend. 

Harry was going to owl his _boyfriend_ after lunch. 

Harry was going to go on a date with his _boyfriend_.

Harry was keeping his relationship _a secret_ with his _boyfriend_.

“What did I say, Moony! His eyes have that distant look in them and he just… disappears somewhere far away.” James’ urgent voice cut through Harry’s train of thoughts. “He’s been quiet and not his usual self this whole summer but it only got worse couple of days ago. And every time it was after coming home after seeing someone.”

Harry blinked and focused to his dad who sent worried glances his way like Harry wouldn’t notice. Harry leaned back, not comfortable with the way he was inspected. Remus’ tired eyes laid on Harry without even trying to hide the fact he was trying to see through his head and Sirius, sitting next to his godson, openly poked his side like some healer. Harry pinched his nose but stopped quickly when he realized it was such a Malfoy-thing to do. 

Now he was even becoming his _boyfriend_. Harry bit his lip so he wouldn’t smile.

“Dad, what are you talking about?” Harry put in. James didn’t even look remorseful and gave him such a pitying look Harry felt like leaving the table for good. He stayed, though, knowing what kind of trouble it would bring upon him.

“It must be love potion, Moony,” James stated gravely. Harry’s fork clattered loudly to the plate.

“Dad!”

Lily sighed and left the table with a mutter. That much help she was being, Harry though betrayed. 

Sirius, who had been patting Harry’s shoulder, tensed, his long fingers gripping the shirt tighter. Peter inhaled sharply, forgetting looking after Amy and a big pile of smashed potatoes flew through the room. Maude’s brown eyes looked around the occupants of the table nervously now that the most reasonable one, Lily, had left. Even though she’d been in the family for three years now, she still had trouble staying relaxed with the loud Marauders and their overreactions. Harry, who’d been a child of one for almost sixteen years, groaned and told them to shut up.

Much more politely, though. He didn’t want to get grounded or make his dad’s paranoia worse. 

Suddenly he was turned around, a yelp leaving his lips. Sirius pushed him down by both of his shoulders, staring into his eyes intently. Harry tried to lean away, a grimace on his face. 

“Personal space, Uncle Pads. Personal space,” Harry said but Sirius didn’t give in. He moved Harry’s head from left to right, his Auror eyes taking in everything. 

“Who is it, Harry? Who did this to you?” 

“No one did anything!” Harry exclaimed but couldn’t wiggle himself free. He let out a frustrated whine. James put on his professional work look.

“What do you think, Sirius? Does he need a healer?”

What the hell? Was he now their case or what? Harry put on his best glare and finally yanked himself free. Sirius didn’t notice, though. He continued his examination like Harry wasn’t even there. 

“Why would someone give Harry love potion?” Peter asked, sharing a wide eyes look with his wife. Maude only shook her head and Harry wanted to join them. 

“Yeah, guys. Why would someone give me love potion?”

James rolled his eyes. “You’re a good looking bloke, Harry. You’ve taken after your father, after all.” There was a loud snort from the other room and James gave the doorway a sharp glare. He cleared his throat before continuing, “Like I was saying, witches in love can become scary.”

Or wizards, Harry wanted to add but pursed his lips instead. He didn’t want to give any reason for them to think there actually was something going on. 

Remus sighed after being quiet for a long time, “Guys. I think the answer’s not love potion…”

“What else would it be then!” James almost stood up. “All the symptoms are there.”

Sirius hummed deeply, still looking at Harry like he was some kind of interesting investment. “Do you feel an unexplainable urge to defend the person you’re attracted to?” He started his interrogation. “Do you feel like going to the Moon for her?”

Malfoy asking Harry for the Moon with his demanding voice and then looking scandalized when Harry straight out refused? Harry couldn’t stop himself from snorting. Everyone looked at him funnily. Heat rose up to his neck and cheeks. “Uh, no?” Then he hastily said, “Not that there’s anyone!”

Sirius hummed again. Harry didn’t like this side of his usually cheerful godfather. When Sirius was working, he became a totally different person, not the openly cheerful man he usually was. “Do your thoughts often wander to the person you are meeting with?”

“Umm,” Harry muttered. A flash of blond hair glowing almost golden in sunset appeared to his mind and the way Malfoy’s arm kept brushing Harry’s as they walked side by side, letting the warmth spread all over Harry… He caught himself and tried to pull an innocent look to his face but the way Sirius’ posture became rigid told that he’d been too late. Everything was eerily silent for a heartbeat. Then the man burst out laughing. The laughter sounded a lot like barking, making little Amy clap her hands in delight. Everyone else were looking at Sirius with bemused eyes – everyone but Remus who was shaking his head at his friend tenderly. Remus sounded amused as he said,

“You realized it too?”

“Oh yes,” He wiped his eyes as he got up to pick Amy up to his arms. The little girl giggled delightfully, making even her mother giggle. Peter looked between them, still confused. 

“Could someone explain us too what’s going on?” he asked.

“Yeah!” James agreed. “What the hell’s going on? Is Harry in danger or what?”

Harry couldn’t do anything but stare at dancing Sirius in horror. He didn’t feel good about this.

“Relax, Prongs,” Sirius said, falling back to his chair. He poked Amy’s chubby cheeks. “Your son’s just in love.”

Harry’s heart dropped to his stomach. 

“I’m not in love!” Harry squeaked. He cleared his throat. “I’m not!”

James looked at Harry with wide, shock filled eyes. His face dropped even more when Harry’s face must have given out the truth.

“I-In love? Harry?” 

Lily chose that moment to come back to the room. She gave an instant glare at James. “I’ve been trying to tell you this since yesterday but you believe it only when Sirius says it?”

James looked troubled, glancing between his wife and his best friend. Lily only sighed, giving up. Instead she turned to Harry who was still sitting like a frozen statue, his ears ringing with all the blood flooding into them. In love? Him? He couldn’t even bring himself to laugh at it when he remembered how softly Malfoy had laughed at Harry’s jokes and how—

“Uh, it’s just a small crush,” Harry muttered, knowing he wasn’t going to fool anyone anymore. Not with his family. He didn’t even want to lie to them but since he couldn’t tell them his new _boyfriend_ was Draco Malfoy, the son of the greatest bastard himself, he could settle for half-truths. Maybe that way he wouldn’t hurt so many people if the actual truth ever got out. Not that their relationship would even last that long. With Malfoy, they were always picking fights and never got along well. 

Yesterday had been some weird expectation. 

“A small or a big crush, it doesn’t matter,” Lily said softly, hugging Harry’s head. “I’m happy for you, honey.”

Harry’s eyes stung. He couldn’t tell them. They were so happy for him, his Mom would flip if she knew his boyfriend had bad opinions about her upbringing. Feeling suffocated and too warm in Lily’s embrace, Harry quickly shot up, pushing Lily away. She blinked at him and Harry rubbed his neck, grimacing at his own panicked reaction.

“Sorry, Mom. I’m not hungry.” The room was silent once again, the teasing atmosphere disappearing somewhere with Harry’s secret. “Can I go up to my room?”

Lily touched his arm. “Sure, honey. But why? Did we say something wrong? Is your crush an impossible one?”

Oh if she only knew.

“Um, kind of,” Harry muttered, shrugging dismissingly. “But it’s okay. I’m… I’m going to do homework now.”

He didn’t let them answer as he bolted up the stairs feeling like a giant brat. He felt guilty for doing it but it was for the best. When Harry opened the door to his room, greeting hooting Hedwig with a faint smile, he sat down with a heavy heart. Once there had been a time when he’d thought that by hiding the truth he’d done a favour to his family. 

It wasn’t necessary to even say that the plan had gone horribly wrong.

Maybe he should have been honest? Deal with their reactions or just not see Malfoy anymore? Somehow the thought of not seeing the git in other situation that passing by him at the castle made Harry feel worse than lying. Draco Malfoy had seriously messed up his head. Maybe the love potion theory wasn’t so farfetched after all. 

Hedwig hooted impatiently and flew to Harry, sitting on the school table filled with scattered school books and Quidditch supplies. “Hey girl,” Harry murmured, petting the bird who looked at him with an unamused look. Even his owl looked at him like he was an idiot. With a resigned sigh Harry was about to reach for a bird treat when Hedwig nipped his fingers – not gently at all. Feeling betrayed Harry was about not to give the damn bird any treats but then his eyes caught a small roll attached to the owl’s leg. 

Ah, so his bird hadn’t given a damn about Harry’s mood. Good to know then, he thought sourly. Harry unwrapped the letter, giving Hedwig a treat anyway. The bird flew away with a soft hoot and now much gentler nudge that made Harry realize he indeed was as much of a sap as Malfoy claimed. He watched tenderly as Hedwig flew to her gage to rest.

Harry rolled the parchment open, not thinking much about it. It was probably from Ron who sometimes sent him small notes to ask him for a quick game of chess or Quidditch. He knew it wasn’t from Hermione since the girl tended to send much longer and more detailed letters. But when Harry didn’t see Ron’s usual scrawls but neat, curvy letters, Harry began to read the note with much more vigour. 

It was from Malfoy. Harry licked his lips, starting from the beginning one more time.

_Potter_  
_Since I know you’re probably going to unnecessarily panic over my feelings again, I’m going to tell you that I still find you an insufferable git but kind of cute one. If you ever repeat this to your friends, I’m not going to hesitate hexing you despite any pleading you do on your knees._  
_Yours,_  
_DM_

Harry’s eyes couldn’t widen any more.

If he’d gotten such a letter from Malfoy last summer, Harry would have ignored the comment about cute and concentrate on all the threats the note included. But now Harry found himself snorting, to his horror, as he read the note through one last time. His lips stretched into a wide smile and he hurried to rummage through the mess to find empty parchment and quill. When he finally got the writing equipment ready – Harry tried to frustratingly smooth out the wrinkles while glaring at Malfoy’s smooth parchment – he put the tip of the quill on the paper and started to write. 

_Malfoy_

Then he stopped and stared at the name. 

What did one write to their supposedly boyfriend slash snogging partner? Harry lifted the quill off again, huffing his bangs out of his eyes. What did one write to Draco Malfoy? 

Harry glanced at the note once again and wondered if Malfoy had had same trouble as he’d written Harry or had the words come out easily. His letter had after all consisted of insults, threats and a couple of off-handed compliments. Very Malfoy like, Harry admitted, but cringed when he realized he was smiling at the paper fondly. There had to be something wrong with Harry’s head if he found that kind of message cute. 

For a while he thought about owling Ron for advice but then realized the redhead was even worse at romance than Harry was. Ron wasn’t an option. Hermione maybe. Harry could call her with a Muggle phone to get through to her fast but then Harry remembered how smart she was. She’d definitely ask Harry why he was asking for advice writing letters to someone he somewhat cared about and would see through Harry’s lies easier than Harry’s family did. 

Hermione was out too. 

He was making too big a deal out of it. Harry forced himself to not think about it too much and just write. It was just Malfoy. 

Malfoy who’d taken him on a date.

Who’d kissed him.

Who was brilliant at it, too. Harry blushed and kicked his desk absentmindedly. 

Malfoy who had written Harry a note in which he kind of confessed what he thought about Harry.

With a groan Harry banged his head against the table. Hedwig screeched in her cage, looking at Harry with surprise. Harry sent the bird a reassuring smile and tried to pick himself up. Concentrate, Potter, concentrate. It’s just a note. Not some proposal.

Bloody hell. Thank god it wasn’t that or Harry would probably mess it up even worse.

As he pushed the picture of Draco standing by the aisle out of his head, he started to write the first think that came to his mind.

_Thanks for your note._

Just write, Harry, just bloody write.

_It was adorable._

What the hell was he writing? Pushing away the hesitation, Harry wrote couple of more lines, sinking deeper and deeper into his chair more he wrote. Maybe his dad was right about the love potion.

Harry forced his infamous bravery out as he read through his note.

_Malfoy_  
_Thanks for your note. It was adorable. I want to see you soon. Good night._  
_Harry_

If he didn’t kill himself then Malfoy would. Not sparing a thought to it anymore, Harry rolled up the note and walked to his owl. Hedwig looked at him with an accusing expression that made Harry almost go back and try again.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, tying the note to her leg. “I know it’s bad but it’s all I can do.”

Hedwig hooted at him. 

“Just take it to Malfoy.” When the bird didn’t move, he added with a groan, “Please.”

That worked since the bird fluttered up and disappeared through the open window. For a while Harry watched as Hedwig turned into a white spot in the distance and finally disappeared. It was too late now. The note was going to Malfoy and by tomorrow morning the git would be at his door, jinxing him for being an illiterate idiot. After all that had happened, Harry was starting to feel he really was one. Maybe James had dropped him to his head as Harry was a baby. Or maybe Sirius. Or both. They just kept quiet about it since it’d only raise Lily’s wrath. 

There was no other explanation for his ridiculous thoughts when it came to Malfoy.

The day was still hot and the Sun up but Harry still fell to the bed, feeling exhausted because of all the confusion that had surrounded him recently. His pillowcase roared quietly, as Harry snuggled to it, taking in a deep breath. Something rustled inside his palm that he hadn’t even noticed he’d been clenching into a tight fist and as he opened it he saw the small note. He must have unconsciously picked it up while distressed over his own note. He frowned at the wrinkles that marred the paper, trying to smooth it out to its original condition. The words started to become clearer but not enough. If they just had permission to use magic outside of Hogwarts. If he only were seventeen already. 

If he were, even dating Draco Malfoy wouldn’t be such a big deal. He wouldn’t be living home and had a right to decide for himself. There wouldn’t be houses either, no animosity between Gryffindors and Slytherins since the adult word didn’t have those anymore. Such a strange thought that was. Maybe it meant that one day Harry wouldn’t have to be so scared of being found out dating ex-Death Eater’s son.

If they even were dating.

But the words that decorated the small piece of paper still made something stir inside Harry, something that reassured him that Draco wasn’t messing around. Hopefully. Harry’s guts wrenched painfully at the thought. 

If one day Malfoy told Harry that it’d all been just an act to get to Harry… he stopped thinking and turned to his other side quickly. He wasn’t going to venture there. 

It was no use to think such a thing anyway. Malfoy would never tell him or leave Harry alone especially if Harry told him to.

With one final sigh Harry closed his eyes and let his thoughts whirl into chaotic dreams that were first led by an elegantly striding Slytherin and then turned into something much, much darker.

Written on January 20, 2018


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m super unsure of this chapter. I’ve had this written for over a week now and I’ve thought about rewriting it about five times but because I never had time, I didn’t. So I’m just going to leave this here and work with whatever I have when I start to write the fifth chapter later this week.

Chapter 4

When a sliver of golden light slipped through the cap of the white curtains Harry started to stir from his sleep. The light hit his closed lids, forcing Harry to squeeze his eyes tighter to avoid being completely blinded. When he finally blinked his blurry eyes open he found the house silent from yesterday’s calm chatter and everything completely still. Harry loved those moments in the morning the most, when nothing moved and he could be just Harry. Not a Gryffindor, not someone who still woke up from nightmares and definitely not a gay bloke who had an unhealthy crush on his biggest enemy.

Blearily Harry blinked the restless dream out of his mind and decided to get ready for the morning. 

A soft wind made the curtains flutter up and Harry remembered he’d left the window open. He didn’t move to close it, though, since the day was warm and the cooling spell wouldn’t let too much heat come in anyway. Instead he let himself smile slightly as he breathed in a delicate scent of lavenders and morning dew. Somewhere the sky rumbled, reminding that the storm had been building up for days now.

It wasn’t until half an hour of slow waking up later that Harry heard the first steps outside of his room. It was probably his dad, getting down to prepare breakfast like every morning since Lily had blown up at him for not being a damn house elf. Harry still shivered at the memory of the roaring woman. Even James hadn’t wanted to argue back and instead, as a peace offering, decided to make them all breakfast before Lily even woke up. 

Harry wondered between Malfoy and him which one would make the breakfast. 

Then he remembered that Malfoy was the pampered prince who was used to get the house-elf prepared food and would probably scoff at Harry for even thinking about cooking for himself. Harry rolled his eyes, emerging from his room more warily than he dared to admit. He remembered the shock on his mom’s face for pushing her away and a surprised eyes of his father’s – he’d been quite transparent, hadn’t he? 

He hesitated at the doorway for a heartbeat before entering the kitchen. The smell of burnt bacon and eggs assaulted his nose immediately but he decided it was for the best to keep his mouth shut. Harry didn’t want to interrupt his dad running around the kitchen with a concentrated frown between his eyes. He still looked utterly lost and Harry couldn’t keep the snort in.

James’ eyes darted to him briefly but returned just as quickly to the frying pan. 

“Morning, kid.” James flipped the eggs over. Harry wasn’t sure you were supposed to do that. “Sleep well?”

Before he could stop himself from reacting to the question, Harry yawned widely. James shot him a narrowed look which the younger Potter waved off with an embarrassed smile. 

“Yeah. Just… worried,” Harry admitted. James stopped tending the eggs for good and turned to Harry. “Sorry about yesterday. I kind of panicked.”

James shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s not like that was the first time you show a little bit of attitude.” Harry felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders as his dad shot him a wry grin. “Stuff like that happens.” 

James didn’t seem to want to venture any further with the topic and Harry fully agreed. He sat at the table as the familiar smell of every morning hit his nose. 

“Dad. The eggs are ready.”

James’ sniffed the air and then his eyes widened. He turned to throw the pan off of the stove with a curse. Harry laughed.

“Yeah, you laugh now,” James muttered darkly as he started to scrub off the burnt breakfast. “This was your breakfast too.”

Harry’s laughter died down. His stomach grumbled. 

“I hate that you made Mom angry.”

James’ look was dirtier than Snape’s when he caught Harry doing something stupid during Potions. 

“Oh, I don’t know, honey. I kind of enjoy seeing him struggle.” Lily entered the kitchen with a wicked smirk on her lips. As she sat next to Harry, pressing a soft kiss on his temple with a cheerful good morning, James set the plates full of something that was mostly bacon and black mush in front of them. Harry was mildly surprised that at least the meat looked edible. Maybe this morning he actually got to eat. 

“I swear if things were different you’d be a Slytherin,” James said but accepted a kiss on the lips when Lily leaned in. He rolled his eyes when Harry mode a gagging noise. 

“Why thank you, James,” Lily’s voice was so airy that it took Harry completely by surprise when she next said, “So, Harry, about yesterday.”

Harry lifted the glass of apple juice to his lips and took a big sip. He eyed the red headed woman next to him, slumping down in his chair. Lily took a calm bite of the bacon, waiting until James sat opposite them, looking just as awkward as Harry felt. He was sipping his juice too, decidedly avoiding to look at Harry for whatever reason. He had no reason to be embarrassed anyway.

Lily’s smile was sweet but it was clear from the way she sat that she wanted nothing more than get the truth out of Harry. Her lips were thinner than normal and when he touched Harry’s arm gently, it was like she was afraid she’d break him. Harry huffed and put down the glass with a little too much force. 

“What about yesterday?” Harry asked, smashing some meat to his fork. “We talked, I overreacted and was rude. Sorry about that, by the way.”

“Wow, do I feel loved now.” Harry took a wary glance at her but she didn’t seem angry. He relaxed a little, trying to breathe through his nose. 

“No, really, sorry about that,” Harry muttered, calming down his fork smashing. 

A heavy sigh was his only warning before Lily’s grip hardened and she said, “I just want to know my son’s being treated right.”

Harry frowned, confused. “I’m treated right.”

James made a weird strangled sound but neither paid him any mind. 

“Okay,” she said slowly, clearly thinking carefully about her next words. When she opened her mouth again, she said, “So, you hinted that your love would be—“

“I’m not in love.”

“Fine, crush then.” Harry tried to shrug her hand off but all he got was an eye roll. “You admitted that it’s not a possible one. Why?” 

Harry groaned. “Mom. Seriously, I’m fine! And it’s nothing, I swear. Just a stupid crush on a stupid person and I’m not going to do anything about it.” 

“You’ve not been yourself lately.”

It was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah, because, like you said, I have a small crush and I’ve been trying to fight it off. That’s why.”

James decided that time was the right one to interrupt, “Why fight it off? Isn’t falling in love fun?” Then he grinned seductively at Lily and Harry tried not to gag again. “At least I remembered it was pretty great.”

Lily giggled. “Oh, you.”

Harry rolled down from his chair with a groan. 

“Harry James Potter, don’t be disrespectful!”

It was with a force of will that he was able to get back to his seat again. But then it meant that the attention was on him once again and for a while Harry regretted not letting his parents’ open flirting continue. At least then he’d get to eat his breakfast in peace. 

“Honey, you know right that you can tell us anything,” Lily said softly, smiling at him. Harry slowed his eating, putting his fork down softly. James was nodding at him encouragingly too and Harry shot him a weak smile. 

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know.” 

A heavy silence spread over the table as they continued to eat, each of them thinking of Harry’s situation. Harry fidgeted in his seat, trying to put his fork into his mouth but every piece tasted like ash – which in itself was an achievement. Even though no one said a word, he knew from the slumped shoulders and deep frowns that his parents wanted to say more. They saw through Harry like always, they knew he was lying and right then it felt even harder to even sit in the same room with them. His mind wandered back to the blond boy and the small note he’d read again after waking up, the nervous flutters in his stomach as he realized he hadn’t got a reply yet and the way he had to stop himself from lending his dad’s owl just to send another note to Malfoy, explain why his note had been such an awkward mess. Harry was an awkward mess and it was Draco’s fault he was like that. _Draco’s_. The name felt weird even in his mind but not badly so. He kind of wanted to see how Malfoy looked if Harry started to call him by his given name.

Harry glanced up and caught his dad giving him a curious glance. They smiled at each other, the unspoken secret heavy between them. Harry groaned inwardly. This was ridiculous. Malfoy wasn’t his parents despite his last name and this far he hadn’t been that bad. He’d been quite nice at school too. Harry’s parents wouldn’t probably be too mad if he told them. 

But James hated Lucius Malfoy and his opinions. And he’d praised Harry for not being friends with Draco. 

Lily had given her share of curses towards the family too because of the treatment they gave to the Muggle born families.

But James and Lily were fair, too. They didn’t discriminate. 

Right?

It was Lily’s forced smile and too-happy question of “More juice?” that made Harry open his mouth.

“Mom. Dad?” 

They both looked up at him expectantly. With trust in their eyes. Harry didn’t deserve such trust. He could already see how their faces crumbled as he told that he’d been kissing a certain Malfoy twice now. What would they say? Draco Malfoy would have just as well been a Death Eater if the situation had been different. 

But it wasn’t, Harry reminded himself and took a deep breath.

“Will you hate me if I…”

The words were caught in his throat when James smiled. His eyes had that soft look full of unconditional love towards Harry which always made Harry feel like an asshole when he did something stupid. His determination wavered. 

“I…”

“Yes, honey?”

“Uhm…”

The silence spread and spread and Harry rubbed his neck under their piercing stares. He swore he was about to open his mouth again when a sharp knock came from the window. Their eyes snapped to it at the same time to see a snow white owl knocking it, a letter tied to her leg. Harry rushed to open the window, almost pushing the chair over and feeling a disgusting hum of relief go through his body. 

Hedwig jumped to his arm the moment the window opened. She nipped his fingers gentler than yesterday, hooting softly as he scratched her head. Harry could finally breathe. 

“Hey, girl. Got a letter for me?” 

Hedwig hooted again as a reply and Harry stumbled the knot open. He gave a small piece of breakfast for the bird – Harry almost laughed at the way she gave a disgusted look for James at the taste – and flew upstairs to rest. Once again Harry was alone with his parents who were still looking at him – and now the letter. A quick glance at the envelope told Harry enough he didn’t want to be in the same room with them as he opened it.

“Uh, I think I’m going to read this upstairs,” he muttered, avoiding looking at the way his parents’ faces fell in disappointment. And worry. Maybe more than disappointment he hated how they breathed down his neck like anything would break him if they weren’t there to help him. He wasn’t bloody ten anymore, he could take care of himself. 

Harry opened the letter already as he got up the stairs, taking out two pieces of paper. The first one had a message in it while the other was completely blank. Harry raised a brow at it.

He sat down to his desk, pushing the stuff out of his way and started to read. 

_Potter,_   
_You’re an idiot. Now get your bloody bird out of my face._

Harry chuckled and glanced at the sleeping Hedwig. What had she done? But probably even Hedwig’s presence and the fact she was Harry’s was enough to set him off.

_But I know that would be impossible since you’d probably be answering this letter again with something as articulate as your previous letter was._

Note to yourself: ask Hermione to write for you.

_That’s why I’ve come up with an alternative option that you might like quite much with your rule-breaking tendencies and all. The paper I sent to you isn’t just any empty paper so don’t toss it away, you wanker. It’s enchanted to send whatever you write to it to its counterpart – which I have – so we can have a conversation without owls. Isn’t it good that your boyfriend’s this good at charms? You should praise me, Potter, since I’ve come up with such a genius plan._

Harry snorted at the shameless self-proclaiming that was so Malfoy like and quickly read the rest of the letter - while holding in a hysteric laugh at the word _boyfriend_ Malfoy had used. The letter told him to write to Malfoy first – and it was an order too. Harry happily accomplished, not even hesitating to admit that Malfoy was some kind of genius. He took out the empty paper that he now knew wasn’t just that and took the first quill he found. Its feathers were a little ruffled but otherwise it worked perfectly well. 

Harry tipped the tip to the ink. With what should he start? A greeting, a compliment or an insult?

Harry grinned wickedly. 

_Oh, great Malfoy. You’ve outdone yourself._

He chuckled breathlessly as the words disappeared like they never even were there. Carefully he leaned back, his stomach making many kind of jumps and flips. Good thing he hadn’t been able to eat much breakfast. 

Then, after ten agonizing seconds, words started to form to the paper. Curvy, elegant letters. 

_I know. I bet you’re impressed._

Harry loved magic. 

_I don’t know. It’s handy but nothing overly so._

This time it took even less for the answer to appear. 

_Shut up, Potter. I know you love me._

Harry didn’t answer anything for a whole minute. His shaking hands didn’t let him to. Even Malfoy – who was actually eagerly waiting for Harry’s reply at the other side, Harry realized with a start – had noticed and that’s why words appeared to the same spot where the previous message had been only seconds ago,

_Cat got your tongue?_

Harry wrote a quick “no” and then imagined how Malfoy was probably sitting in his own room at the Malfoy manor, rolling his eyes. Harry pressed the quill to the paper again.

_Thanks for your note again. I liked it a lot._

With a satisfied smirk Harry read Malfoy cursing Harry and Harry’s like to the deepest hell. Excitement took him over as he read,

_It was your bloody bird. It was trying to literally eat my fingers off until I finally wrote you your stupid letter._

Harry’s brows disappeared under his bangs. Hedwig never became violent to get people to write Harry. Sure, Hedwig was known to appear to Harry’s friends when they were about to write or already writing for him, some kind of magical senses telling her that soon her master would get letters. She was a smart owl, a magical and mysterious one, but never violent. 

In other words…

_You know, Hedwig never forces anyone to write me. But she knows when someone wants to send me a letter._

Harry had never felt such a way before when Malfoy answered with a curt, _It’s not your business_. It was very much Harry’s business but he decided to keep quiet, settling for biting down his stupid grin. The warm hum in his head made him feel like he could do anything, made him feel he needed more. So he wrote,

_Can we meet today?_

It was good that the message always left before he had time to regret or even have a chance to figure out if it was possible to erase the words before they appeared to Malfoy’s paper. Harry sat back and waited, rocking back and forth until he almost lunged over the paper to read the message.

_I’m not sure._

“Oh.”

Something heavy dropped into his stomach, crushing the pleasant hum in the process. He didn’t dare to move as he took in a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. It was fine. Malfoy couldn’t just meet him whenever Harry felt like it. That was life. Then a darker thought pushed its way to replace any hope. 

Maybe Malfoy didn’t want to meet him again. Maybe Harry had done something wrong when they kissed. Maybe it was the way Harry had run away like a coward, not taking care of the situation like a man should.

Harry hadn’t even noticed it at first but when new words appeared just below the disappointing text, a different kind of weight took presence in Harry’s guts. 

_Let me ask my father first._

Father? Lucius Malfoy? Blood droned out of his face, his eyes widening as he scribbled so fast the words almost didn’t make sense.

_You’re going to ask your father if you can meet me?!_

“C’mon, answer, you git,” Harry muttered but when two minutes passed and there was still nothing but a blank paper, Harry threw the quill to the table in frustration. Draco Malfoy was going to ask his father if he could meet Harry later that day. Harry tried to calm himself down. Maybe he was just reading too much into it and actually Draco was only asking if he could go out. Not if he would be able to meet _Harry_. 

Harry rubbed his face.

Not knowing how long the message would show for Malfoy or whether it would disappear only after Malfoy had read it, Harry thought about writing a new one. But then, if the earlier words disappeared when Harry wrote new ones and he’d never see what a stupid idea Harry thought asking Lucius Malfoy about the matter was. 

It was probably futile to worry about such a thing when soon Harry would find himself hexed into a toad for laying a hand on the Malfoy heir. 

Shit.

Harry was still coming up with creative ways the older Malfoy would punish Harry with when sudden loud noises assaulted the hallway outside his room and the door banged open. Harry only got a second of warning to hastily fold the paper and push it under the stacks of books. When he turned around with an innocent smile on his face, he was attacked by a mess of brown curls. 

“Harry! It’s been so long!” 

Harry tried to spat the hair out of his mouth, patting the back awkwardly as he wheezed out, “Good to see you too, ‘Mione.” 

She huffed a laugh somewhere around his chest. “France was quite beautiful, thank you for asking.” She gave him a knowing smile and Harry had really missed her. He snorted as her hair tried to push its way up to his nose one more time but didn’t try to stop it.

“Geez, ‘Mione. Give the poor bloke space to breathe.” It was Ron’s voice. Harry had to physically peer around hugging Hermione to see the lanky redhead standing by the door, his arms crossed and a wide grin on his face. Harry sent a smile as wide back to him, pushing Hermione gently away. 

“Everything alright, mate?” 

Ron shrugged lightly, falling to Harry’s unmade bed. Hermione was standing further away now so that Harry was able to see a stern look she was giving his room.

“Harry, when did you clean in here?” 

Harry blinked and looked around in wonder. The bedsheets were halfway to the floor, some clothes on the floor were probably giving off manlier scent than any boys’ locker room and the halfway finished homework were scattered here and there, some crumbled from the corners while some had their ink all messed up. Harry met the girl’s disapproving stare again, giving her a confused smile.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Hermione just rolled her eyes. 

“Whatever. That’s not really why we came here,” she stated, sitting down next to her boyfriend. Ron wrapped his arm immediately around her shoulders, giving her such an adoring look that Harry felt like gagging just like with his parents. It was one thing to be happy for his best friends for finally finding each other and another to want to stay in the room where the sweetness was too much to his sanity. He kept his mouth shut, though, when the first kiss was landed. When the second one came around and Harry found nowhere to look at casually, he cleared his throat, separating the lovebirds. At least Hermione had some shame left to look embarrassed unlike Ron who looked at Harry like he was the third-wheel there. Harry gave him a glare.

“Sorry, Harry.” Hermione winced when she sounded out of breath. Harry just rolled his eyes, leaning back. He could forgive them – after all they hadn’t seen each other for a month. But when her eyes zeroed on him again, Harry hoped he’d just walked out of his own room and given them privacy to concentrate on each other.

“So are you ready yet?”

“Huh? Ready for what?”

The pair shared an exasperated look and Harry gave them both a glare this time. “What?”

“We’re going to Diagon Alley, mate,” Ron said slowly, giving Harry such a stare which implicated it should have been clear from the beginning. “Don’t you remember, we decided to go today together?”

Harry gave him a blank look.

Ron snorted. “Last week I fire-called you and we agreed on going together on Sunday.” He gave Harry a pointed look. “Which is today. Or do I need to get a calendar?”

“I-It’s Sunday already?” Harry looked down, frowning. He tried to recall when they’d made such plans but his head gave him nothing but blank and then nervousness and soft lips. He closed his eyes. Of course. It was Malfoy’s fault. Again. 

“Seriously, Harry. Haven’t you been using that planner I gave you for Christmas?” Hermione said that but she looked weary, glancing at the mess behind Harry like sensing her planner was somewhere there. Actually the notebook was somewhere in Harry’s closet of forgotten things but he decided it was for the best to not mention that. Instead he shared a panicked look with Ron who looked just as guilty. 

Yet he had nerve to say, “Yeah, Harry. Why haven’t you been using it?” He gave Harry wild glances like asking for him to play along. Harry shook his head and ignored them both. Instead he started to rummage around his room to find his wallet and backpack. The letter from Hogwarts was slightly harder to find but after throwing around the papers and books on his desk he found it. When he went to pick it up, his eyes landed on the folded paper, laying there innocently. Harry peered behind himself but Ron and Hermione were too into each other to notice a change in Harry’s behaviour. After glancing one more time to them and finally hesitating for a second his hand over the paper, he picked it up, pushing it into the pocket of his shorts. 

He didn’t check if Malfoy had already answered and instead tried to assure himself it didn’t matter since he was busy too, but the presence of the enchanted paper burned against his leg, asking for Harry to look at it. He didn’t, though. He just stepped out after Ron and Hermione to meet up with the rest of the Weasleys and enjoy his git-free day out in the sun.

~*~*~*~*~

Written on January 28, 2018 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Diagon Alley was a good distraction. In general, there wasn’t better distraction than the Weasley family. There was no such a thing as half-assed shopping day with the Weasleys where you thought you’d just pop up for a quick book shopping in the afternoon and then Floo home. There was also no such a thing as letting your mind wander somewhere else without having at least five redheads peering down at you worriedly or trying to tease the secret out of you with the best embarrassment methods the Weasley twins knew.

Harry had learned this in a hard way as a kid – he shuddered at the thought of any of the Weasleys seeing him try to have a look of the seemingly empty parchment, steadily reminding Harry of its existence with every rustle and absentminded brushing of a hand against the bulging pocket. He’d almost given in to his curiosity and whipped the parchment out during the hectic lunch at Leaky but then noticed Fred giving him a sideway glance he almost hadn’t seen. The way the twin had leered at him was enough for Harry to continue eating, forcing a schooled nonchalant expression on his face. 

After the lunch he’d forced himself to enjoy the day despite the low hung dark clouds above them and a distant rumble of thunder. Harry wiped dripping sweat off his brow, feeling disgusting in his sweaty shirt. As he kept looking at the new Firebolt with Ron and Ginny he wondered if it’d be okay to just take the shirt off. Then he remembered his mum and Mrs Weasley and decided it to be safer to just endure. 

With a tired sigh he moved awkwardly aside as some big kid tried to push his way towards the shop window. Ron and Ginny were talking animatedly about the new broomstick with a familiar gleam in their eyes that Harry normally could agree with. Now, though, he couldn’t care less about the fine broom he’d wanted for so long. No matter how hard he tried to nod and put enthusiasm into his words he still couldn’t get into it. In the end he decided to just look but it was getting boring too. The sun was beating down on him, the mass around him made his head swim and the constant reminder of the unfinished conversation with Malfoy made nothing to improve his mood. When another kid came running through the crowd to get closer, he gave up and walked further away to wait. 

The heavy bags hang from his forearm as he pushed his hand to his pocket, playing with the corners of the paper. Had Draco read his message? Had he decided against talking to his father? 

Harry pulled the paper out a little, taking a wary peek without seeing anything. 

Had Draco answered? 

He glanced quickly around the street but didn’t see any redheads or Hermione around and Ron and Ginny were still glued against the window, now arguing about something. Harry was alone. 

Before he could think it too much and cower away, he took the paper out. He opened it carefully, almost scared too much force would tear it apart, and couched when he saw ink. Then he saw beautiful handwriting that became more frantic towards the end of the parchment. Harry’s eyes widened as he took in many lines that covered the whole page. 

Draco had answered alright. Harry laughed.

_Yes. Of course I’m going to ask him. What are you on about?_

Harry took a deep breath and tried to ignore the need to start answering right there and then with every reason what _he was on about_. Bloody idiot. He shook his head and continued reading the messages that were neat at first and then frantic, like their writer had forgotten he was supposed to be this stuck up pureblood with perfect handwriting. 

It made Malfoy look more humane than Harry was ready to face. He couldn’t stop himself from tracing the words with his fingers as he read. 

_Yes. I can meet with you tonight. What time are you suggesting?_

_Potter. Where the hell did you disappear?_

_Or do you not want to meet with me anymore? Is that how dedicated you are to me?_

_Potter, I swear to God if you don’t answer in this second I’m going to come over there and drag you over from your ears. They’re quite ugly too so maybe I can do something good to them._

_Potter?_

_Oh Merlin, Potter. You’re not sleeping, right?_

_I bet you’re meeting your weird friends instead. Why? You don’t want to meet me anymore?_

_Just to remind you it was you who said you wanted to meet me._

_Wanker._

_Answer me._

_Is it about my father? If so I can tell you my father isn’t a problem. The problem here, instead, might be you._

_So fuck you._

Harry felt loved.

As he finished reading, the words started to disappear, leaving once again the blank page for him to write. He was still staring at the paper as the last reminder of ink disappeared, not knowing what kind of face he was supposed to make. Malfoy was worried. Malfoy wanted to meet him tonight. 

His father wasn’t a problem. 

Harry couldn’t hold in a snort. He pressed the paper against his face, trying to hide the grin he knew was ridiculous, goofy, way too happy considering Malfoy was probably marching toward his house right now and his parents would answer the door, demanding what the younger Malfoy was doing at their doorstep, asking for Harry. 

Harry’s smile dropped at the same time as his stomach. 

“Harry, what are you doing?”

Harry pulled the paper off his face with a squeaky “nothing” and looked away from the amused blue eyes of his best friend. A family of five that had been passing them looked at Harry with shocked eyes and Harry just gave them an awkward smile back. Harry shrugged as he looked back at Ron, being happy for the first time that the other boy was so much taller compared to Harry. Meeting eyes was hard without looking up and Harry decided not to do that.

“Sure, nothing,” Ron said slowly, crossing his arms. “You okay, mate?”

Harry smiled. “Sure,” he said fast. Too fast. He winced. “Just, you know…” he looked around himself. “It’s hot. The heat.”

Ron kept looking at him like he’d lost his mind. Perhaps he had. Harry slapped Ron’s arm, finally looking up at him. “So since it’s hot out here, let’s go get some ice cream. My treat.”

For a while it looked like Ron wanted to say more, maybe even tell no to the ice cream, but Harry knew his friend and Ron never refused food. After a long second he shrugged and started to lead the way towards the ice cream parlour. They both were silent on the way there and Harry knew he’d messed up somehow. Ron looked indifferent, though, but that could mean anything. He could be hurt or curious or angry or, just, indifferent. 

Every single option made Harry want to shake the boy and just come out with it. 

When they reached the parlour, Harry stopped. As he laid his eyes to the small, round tables, pink parasols and lime green deck chairs that made his eyes water, Harry was back to the day he’d sat opposite the blond young man. The chairs that were maybe even worse than the parasols had looked almost tolerable that day, Harry couldn’t even remember complaining about them. Like the chairs hadn’t even been there, just him and Malfoy and their awkward confession-like conversation that had led to this; distracted Harry and a best mate who was now leaning against the table, regarding Harry with narrowed eyes that fit better for the twins when they schemed something. 

Harry flashed Ron a smile as he walked towards the counter. “The usual?” Ron nodded and as Harry returned with both strawberry and cherry flavoured ice creams, Ron didn’t wait around. 

“What was that paper?” He was trying to look around the table to see into Harry’s pocket. Before he could stop himself, Harry put a protective hand over it and then remembered Malfoy and the way he’d been upset of Harry not answering.

He tried to not start to rummage for a pen and start to write an answer right in front of Ron. He continued eating, face heating up. 

“Uh, nothing really.” Ron snorted. “Okay, maybe it was something,” Harry admitted, stretching his leg. 

When he didn’t give more information, Ron leaned forward, a smirk on his lips. “Well? What is it then?”

“Just a letter.”

“From who?”

“A friend.” Harry tried to roll his eyes but ended up feeling stupid. Even Ron started to laugh. “Oh, shut it.”

“No, really,” Ron said through his snorts. He pushed more strawberry into his mouth and continued talking despite full mouth. “You don’t just hide and look like Christmas had come early because of a letter from a friend.”

“Well, I like my friends a lot.”

Ron’s face fell. “Don’t tell me you look like that when I…” He looked horrified and Harry kicked him without mercy. 

“Sod off.”

Ron kicked him back but didn’t look like he was having a heart attack anymore. “Okay, Harry. What’s going on here? Why are you so… I dunno, mysterious over some letter.”

Harry opened his mouth to deny once again but Ron beat him to it, “Don’t even try! You’ve been in some weird dream world of yours the whole day. I know you mate. You couldn’t even care less when Fred and George pushed self-melting plastic ice cubes down your shirt.”

“I don’t know, it felt kind of nice. It’s hot and all…”

“Merlin, Harry. Don’t force me to steal some Veritaserum from Snape because I’ll do it if it’s to help you,” Ron said, pointing his spoon at him and making Harry shake his head amusedly. They smiled each other for a moment, both probably thinking the way Snape’s face would twist once he realised couple of Gryffindors had stolen his precious potion. Then Harry sobered when he saw Ron looking towards his pocket once again and he sighed. 

“Okay,” he huffed, looking up to the clouds that were coming closer and closer with such speed there was no doubt what kind of weather they’d have later that night. “Fine. It’s not from a friend.”

“Aha!”

“But,” Harry continued, pressing the word. “I’m not that sure about our relationship status. I guess we’re dating, I mean, the word _boyfriend_ was thrown in today…”

Ron looked at him like he was crazy. “Then, in my opinion, it’s quite clear that you’re dating.”

Harry bit his lip but his cheeks twisted as a wide smile spread up to his ears. 

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered, finally leaning back. “You could have told me, mate! Well, tell me about her. How is she? Do I know her? Is she pretty?”

Harry opened his mouth but closed it again. “Um.” He looked with a thudding heart as Ron’s happy expression turned into a confused one, kicking the leg of the table. 

“What is it?” Ron’s brows knitted together. “Is there something matter?” He gasped. “Don’t tell me she’s so ugly that…”

“Ron! No.”

“Okay, okay, just kidding.” He looked around nervously. “Just don’t tell Hermione I said that. She’d be crazy mad.”

Harry sat up. “If you promise not to tell about this to anyone else.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “No way, mate. Why?”

“Just promise me and I won’t say a word to Hermione.”

Ron regarded him silently for a while, grumbling under his breath now and then. Then he sighed, frustration clear on his face and said, “Fine. Deal.” Then he said something that made Harry’s heart speed up. “Seriously, mate. That was quite Slytherin of you.”

Ron had chuckled after the accusation but Harry couldn’t muster up a smile. Instead his mind was full of panic, full of curse words and realization of thinking so much Malfoy that somehow he was turning into a snake himself. If that was even possible. He should be more careful with what he said if he wanted to hide Malfoy’s identity as long as their relationship lasted. Then he blanched as he realized what he’d just thought was like a perfect paragraph from the textbook called “How to be a Perfect Slytherin”. 

When Ron started to cough, banging his chest with a red face, looking at Harry like he’d finally understood the biggest secret of the world, Harry knew Ron had somehow realized. 

“It’s… It’s…” he coughed some more, pointing his finger at Harry. “I knew there was something wrong!”

“Ron, I can explain…” Explain or run as far away as possible and live the rest of his life as a hermit. There was so much excitement that a Gryffindor could take. 

Ron took a deep breath and finally calmed down. “No need, Harry.” He took another one and the redness of his face started to disappear. “She’s a Slytherin, isn’t she? That’s why you didn’t want to tell!”

Harry’s mouth hang wide open. “Uh.” He shrugged helplessly but somehow half of the weight on his shoulders dropped off. “Sure. Yeah. He’s a Slytherin.”

“Oh, I knew it! Harry, what the he…” Ron stopped, leaning his head against his hand. “What the hell? He?”

The buzzling of the street around them filled the heavy silence around them. Harry held his breath, not daring to move a muscle as Ron stared at him like he’d never seen Harry before. Maybe he hadn’t, maybe Harry was something he’d never believed him to be. Maybe Harry was too much and easier to not deal with. Somehow this thought made his blood only boil, made him realize that if Ron had a problem with who Harry was he could just go and fuck himself.

But one part of him was still afraid, still wanted to take the truth back and continue as that person his friends and family had always thought he was. 

The anger won. 

Harry leaned in and said, his voice barely staying steady, “Yeah, he.”

“Huh,” Ron said. He fidgeted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable under Harry’s unwavering gaze. “So, boys then?”

Harry fidgeted too. “Yup. Boys.”

“Boys,” Ron repeated. 

“Boys.”

Ron inhaled deeply, frowning. “One boy? A Slytherin boy?”

Harry just nodded. 

He watched as Ron ran his fingers through his hair, looking lost and confused. “Okay, then.” Then he shrugged and nodded. “Okay, then.” 

Harry lifted his brow. 

“I mean, sure, you got a letter from a Slytherin boy,” Ron stated again, starting to look steadier. “It made you happy?”

Harry let out a shaky breath and answered, “Yeah, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

Harry lowered his eyes to his melting ice cream but he didn’t feel like eating it. Instead, he said, “He was pretty angry and I guess I should answer him before he decides to do something stupid.”

Ron snorted. “Mate. What did you do already to make him angry? Not that I know how long you two have been dating,” he added hastily, raising his hands. 

“Not that long really,” Harry muttered, pulling out the paper and opening it. It still stayed empty. “And I kind of asked him out today but then didn’t answer him after that.”

Ron made a sound like Harry had just received a nasty right-hook. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“It’s a long story,” Harry tried but one look at Ron told him his friend didn’t give a damn. He scooped a little bit of his ice cream to his mouth and swallowed. “Okay, well, he said something that made me panic. Probably over nothing but you know me. I don’t think.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ron chuckled. Harry just gave him a hard look. 

“So I just left a kind of angry message for him and then you guys came in and…”

Ron continued for him, “And you came here like you’d promised. No wonder you were so confused when Hermione and I told you.”

“Yeah,” Harry said slowly. He smoothed out the wrinkles and grimaced at the emptiness. “I’m scared that I messed up somehow.”

“Just write to him, then.” Harry looked up but Ron just shrugged. “Write, explain what happened and say sorry if necessary. Or have you become such a snake you can’t even act like a lion anymore?”

Harry scoffed. “Yeah, right. In your dreams.”

“Hey, don’t drag my dreams into this. I prefer you as a Gryffindor still, mate.” 

Harry tapped the table for a while, looking warily at his friend. Ron looked calm, the previous shock gone from his expressive face. Harry gave him a tentative push. “Hey, got a quill with you?” 

“Sure.” He started to rummage through his bags. “Need parchment too?”

“No, this is fine.” Ron gave the paper a curious glance at his words and stopped as he saw nothing on it.

“Isn’t that the letter you got from him?”

“Yeah.” Harry didn’t offer further explanation, just took the self-inking quill and started to think. Ron didn’t push it and Harry let himself relax. He loved his friend but for some reason he didn’t want to explain the paper to him. It felt like the last bit of his secret with Malfoy would get blown away if he did. For now it was just their secret and Harry wanted to keep the excitement the way it was now. They’d keep sending each other secret messages without anyone knowing how. 

If Malfoy just wanted to talk to him. Drama Queen.

He said that yet he still wished he hadn’t messed up too much. 

_Hey. Sorry it took too long to answer. I was out shopping things for school and couldn’t check on you._

He paused for a moment, watching the letters disappear. A quick look up told him that Ron had fortunately decided to give Harry some privacy. He still shielded the paper away as he waited for the answer. 

The paper stayed empty.

Remembering the many messages Malfoy had sent him, Harry decided to write more, now knowing his previous one wouldn’t disappear. 

_Are you still free tonight? I want to see you._

This time he set down the quill and waited. And waited. Folded the paper and opened it again. And then there was finally an answer. He swallowed down a lump in his throat and rolled his eyes when he read,

_Well, go ahead and see me then. I’ll send you a bloody picture of me so you can fucking look at me whenever it’s fine for you, you git._

Merlin, how infuriating Malfoy could be. And yet the words made his stomach make a leap, made his blood rush, made him shake his head tenderly at the way Malfoy seemed to make everything so big. 

_Don’t be like that. I’d love to have a picture of you too but I prefer the real you._

Harry was just about to start a conversation with Ron when Malfoy said,

_Oh, fuck off, Potter. At 9 PM in front of the church?_

Harry picked up Ron’s quill again.

_9? Isn’t that kind of late?_

_Well if you hadn’t taken the whole day to answer me I wouldn’t have to help Mother with the garden._

Harry blinked.

_You do gardening?_

He got no answer for that but it was okay. He had an image of Malfoy crouching down next to the happy coloured dahlias, a streak of dirt running over his pale cheek. That image could keep him smiling for days, weeks, even months. 

_Fine, I’ll see you then. Don’t be late._

And he pushed the paper back, facing the exasperated look Ron gave him. 

“You look disgustingly happy with yourself,” he stated. 

“Of course. He didn’t seem too pissed off.” That was probably a lie but Malfoy still wanted to meet him and that was all that mattered. 

“Good for you then. Maybe you you’ll get some, you know.” Ron smiled, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Oh, Merlin.” 

Harry looked away, rubbing his neck. The pictures that pushed up were now a variation of Malfoy covered in dirt while Harry pushed him down between the flowers to kiss his lips raw. Harry shifted on his seat.

Ron looked horrified. “No, Harry! What are you thinking! Stop it right now.”

“You started it!” 

“I know but I don’t need to imagine my best mate having sex with some Slytherin guy!”

“You’re seriously too hang on with the fact that he’s a Slytherin.”

“Of course I am! Slytherins are enemies.”

Harry shook his head at him but didn’t deny it. He’d thought the same way just recently and maybe even now. But Malfoy, even though a Slytherin, was a guy with surprisingly prickly sense of humour, parents he loved so much that he wanted to defend them with vigour and tender fingers when he kissed Harry, brushing Harry’s hair out of way. He was a stuck-up prick but he was just like anybody else Harry knew. Yet he wasn’t – he was someone who Harry couldn’t stop thinking about. 

“Listen, Harry.” Ron’s serious voice made Harry look back at him. His friend was leaning lazily back like he wasn’t going to say something serious in a second but the redness that took over his whole face all the way down to the neck told the other story. “I get it that you didn’t want to say anything about this bloke you date, you know, because he’s a Slytherin and all but… just so you know, don’t think you can’t tell me, or Hermione, who he is.”

“Ron, I—“

“Just listen.” Ron gave him a steady look. “You’re our best friend and no matter who you’re dating, we’ll be okay with it. As long as he’s treating you okay.” Harry couldn’t help a light chuckle escaping from his throat at the stern expression his friend tried to muster up. It looked more like an angry scowl of a little brat who hadn’t gotten his dessert. He saw that Ron was serious yet he couldn’t come up with the courage to just tell. It would be so easy now. 

Just say one name and that’s it.

Harry didn’t. He just nudged his friend’s knee with his own and got up. There was still three hours to go before he was supposed to meet Malfoy and new school robes to get. 

~*~*~*~

It was almost nine when Harry slammed the door open and zoomed towards the stairs. He was halfway up when his mother’s voice cut through the heartbeat in his ears, making him almost fall forward. 

“And what on earth do you think you’re doing, young man?” 

Harry grimaced and turned towards the bottom of the stairs, a sound of a ticking grandfather clock telling him the time was running out. And yet he’d been an idiot and forgotten that his parents didn’t think well of those who decided to slam the doors and not greet when they came home. 

“Sorry, Mum. Just… I forgot that tonight there’s this show on the Wireless at nine.” He shrugged, trying to look relaxed. “I don’t want to miss it.”

A fine, red brow rose in a way that made Harry want to sit down and bury himself alive. “Really? And since when have you listened Wireless?”

Harry shrugged again. “Since Ron told me this show is really good.”

“Uhuh,” she nodded along. “And what is this show about?”

Harry swallowed. “You wouldn’t understand it anyway.”

“Because I’m so old?” Her eyes gleamed dangerously and Harry wondered if he looked just as dangerous when he got serious. When the green turned deep dark, it was best to try to mend it as fast as possible. 

“No way, Mum! It’s just, this is about this new Quidditch thing that even Dad wouldn’t understand. Because he’s even older.”

Harry almost whooped when Lily looked at least a little bit amused. But then she leaned against the railing and said in a carefree tone, “You know, I actually listen to the Wireless every night.”

 _Oh. Oh, shit._ Harry tried to keep calm and smile. “Oh? Then you’re younger at heart than I thought.”

“Seriously, are you trying to anger me or distract me, because I can’t decide?” 

“Well, which one’s working better?” He flashed her a sheepish smile.

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered to herself. Harry decided it was for the best to see what happened next. “You’re just like James and I have no idea what to do with either of you.”

“Just let us tend for ourselves?” Harry suggested, trying to get up the rest of the stairs as discreetly as possible. “Forget that we even exists, put your feet up, sit down with a good glass of wine and listen to some Wireless?”

Lily stared at him for a time that felt like hours to Harry. Each ticking of a clock made him a little braver as he sneaked up, not breaking the eye contact with his mum. 

“So?” He tries again, dragging the word. 

Lily threw her hands in the ear, huffing loudly. “Whatever.” Harry had just enough time to grin and get up the rest of the stairs when the _but_ came. 

“But you’re not going out tonight, Harry.” She looked at him like she knew exactly what Harry was about to do. He looked away guiltily. “Your curfew’s in an hour and I know if you’re going out now, you’re not getting back in time.”

Harry tried to decide what to do, fast. Lily was looking at him calmly, waiting for the right answer. There was only one, though, like always for this kind of non-questions. 

“Of course I’m not going anywhere,” he said easily. Lily pins him down with her stare for a little longer when she finally turned away, looking like she couldn’t care less. 

“Good. Now excuse me, I have a show on a Wireless to listen to.” Her eyes flashed. “And which is about some new Quidditch thing, I heard. Perhaps we’re going to listen to the same show, hm?”

And then she was gone with a slick whip of robes, just like her old best friend, the bastard called Severus Snape. Harry shivered and after hearing the hand move forward a minute, he slammed his door shut. 

~*~*~*~

It was almost ten past nine when Harry finally got to the church. Malfoy was already there, standing with his hands in his pockets and looking outright furious. His hair was neat but something in the way he stood made him look as dangerous as the clouds above their heads. It made Harry take a step back but then he remembered the boy couldn’t see him and the temptation was too strong to dismiss…

“Did you miss me already?”

It was like a personal performance for Harry when Malfoy turned around with a sharp whip. When his eyes saw nothing but empty air, his mouth opened in confusion, taking place over anger. Under the invisibility cloak, Harry pressed a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle his cackling. Malfoy turned around, growing seemingly nervous as he saw nothing. As he turned around Harry got a good look of today’s outfit. 

It seemed like Malfoy had finally realized it was summer and it was only insanity to wear dress shirts, since now he was wearing a shorts sleeved V-neck and still managing to look just as hot. Harry bit his lip excitedly as his eyes roamed over the bare neck and the Adam’s apple that popped as Malfoy swallowed down his confusion. As he seemed to settle for the conclusion of hearing things and turning his back to Harry – he didn’t mind as it gave quite nice view of his behind – Harry couldn’t stop himself.

“Over here, Malfoy.”

Malfoy turned around once again, his glare so sharp it could have killed. “Goddammit, Potter,” he growled, making Harry’s heart beat harder. “Show yourself!”

Harry did as he was told to, revealing his head. His grin widened as Malfoy yelped, his eyes taking in the sight of Harry’s floating head. Harry made sure the streets of the village were empty before taking off the cloak. Draco was still staring at him with wide eyes, inhaling sharply. 

“What the bloody hell—“ he started. Harry, who was feeling wild and reckless, leaned in and kissed the pale cheek. It felt warm under his lips, making them tingle. 

“Hello to you too,” Harry said, tilting his head. Malfoy looked like he wasn’t breathing, his whole being screaming disbelief. 

After what felt like an eternity – which Harry had used wisely watching Malfoy’s expression melt from shock to anger – Malfoy finally huffed, “I knew you had something illegal with you. There was no way you would have been able to sneak around the school without anyone noticing. And you’re late!” His voice was bitter but Harry didn’t mention it.

“Keep it a secret, will you?” He nudged the Slytherin’s arm gently. “It’s pretty useful and I’d like to keep it around.”

“And you’re trusting me with this secret because?” 

Harry shifted from one foot to other. “Because I trust you.”

Malfoy didn’t believe him but Harry had thought as much. He didn’t believe himself either. He was taking a risk but he knew what he was doing. If Malfoy was able to keep this secret then he was serious about Harry. If not, then…

Harry didn’t want to think about that. He wanted to trust Malfoy – even if the trust was blind. He wouldn’t be able to be in a relationship in which he had to watch his every word and move. When Malfoy stood in front of him, all frozen and emotionless, Harry though he’d seen through his plan too. Soon the boy would confront him about it, looking hurt and betrayed since Harry didn’t give himself to him blindly. 

Harry had to take a step back, though, when instead of hatred, Malfoy’s face melted into a soft smile. Grey eyes met Harry’s, almost transparent lashes fluttering close and open slowly. “Sappy Gryffindor,” he muttered, making Harry’s legs jelly. Maybe the boy had jinxed him, casted a silent jelly-leg curse when Harry had been distracted by the way Malfoy’s smile seemed to make the boy look as young as he actually was instead of this old, sophisticated man in a child’s body. 

Harry felt like a sappy Gryffindor but didn’t mind that. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be sappy if it meant he got such a tender look directed towards him. Maybe he didn’t care about being naive. Maybe it was okay to trust blindly – even if it’d lead to more pain later. But it made him – and Draco – happy at that very moment and that was what mattered. Not some random moment in the future that would change so many times depending on his decisions but this. 

Before he showed his sappiness outside and gave Malfoy more reason to tease him ruthlessly, he said, “So, what do you want to do tonight?” He didn’t like how his voice broke in the middle, making him sound like a bloody teenager. Maybe he was one but he didn’t want to sound like one, too. Not especially when Malfoy’s voice was so soft and manly and made his guts make wild jumps. 

Malfoy’s eyes got a sly gleam in them as he said, “What do _I_ want to do? I thought you had something in mind when _you_ asked me out.”

Harry ruffled his hair, making it stand even more. His motions slowed down as he noticed how Malfoy’s sharp eyes followed the way his fingers moved, licking his lips, smile tucking at the corners. “Uh, you know, I just thought it’d be nice to do something together.”

“I see,” Malfoy hummed. Shivers ran up and down Harry’s spine. “How about you take me somewhere and we’ll come up with something to kill time?”

Harry felt like he’d just sold his soul to Devil himself when he nodded and let Malfoy push his fingers through his, pressing his soft palm against his own. When he tucked at Harry’s hand lightly, Harry instantly took the lead, dragging the other boy along somewhere he didn’t know yet. The bells of the church were still chiming – probably due the old man up the clock tower that didn’t seem to get the time right ever – Harry felt like he should be walking towards them instead of jumping straight to the deep end with the boy that seemed to have a lot of power over him. But as Malfoy jogged to walk beside him, grinning smugly, Harry didn’t even think about turning back. 

~*~*~*~

Written on February 12, 2018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been over two weeks since I wrote anything creative. It felt a little awkward but after two pages it was easy enough to get back to the flow. Just wanted to say hi, thank you for all the attention and especially for the comments! They made me smile a lot and forget a little about the stress I’m under even now. I wrote this chapter tonight from the beginning to the end (over freaking 5k words dammit!!!) and I read it through really fast so I bet there’s a lot of typos, odd word choices and grammar mistakes. You’re very welcome to point them out for me :) I’m not sure if I’m able to make it next week because I’m going to my parents’ place and I have this important discourse too but let’s see.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny fact. Originally I planned this fanfic to be about six chapters long. Now, here we are, with chapter 6 and definitely no ending nearby. What am I doing? (Also, this is why I think the beginning feels a little rushed and would like to rewrite the first chapter. I wonder what you think.)
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! Sorry I had to miss the deadline last week. I’m not sure if there’ll be an update next week either since I have a deadline for an essay at the end of this week but I’ve got high hopes that a week after that I’ll be able to have more time and start updating regularly.

Chapter 6

They didn’t go anywhere yet it felt like they’d been everywhere. Harry felt ridiculous as he led the way back to the church after walking around the village, only stopping once in a while to sit down and talk. And pick a fight. And talk. Let hands brush against each other. Talk. They only moved after hearing an ominous rumble of the sky or when one of them kicked the other and challenged for an angry chase that neither never won because by the time they reached the other, they’d already forgotten why they were doing it in the first place. 

Malfoy didn’t seem to mind not going anywhere – Harry let his eyes fall on the silent figure next to him, walking slowly but without hesitation. Pale skin was illuminated by the large lamp attached to the red barn door next to the road and the shadows it cast around the other boy made him only look more mysterious. Once upon a time Harry would have said scary, suspicious or maybe even evil but now Harry had to put his hand inside his pocket so that he didn’t try to chase the shadows on Malfoy’s cheek. An old weather vane above them made sad, squeaky noises in the blowing wind, filling the silence Harry desperately wanted to fill with words. The sky rumbled again and the world was darker than it had been in a long time.

“Think it’s going to rain soon?” 

He heard Malfoy exhale slowly and then chuckle. Harry turned to him but the eyes he wanted to see weren’t looking at him at all. They were looking up to the black sky, an amused exasperation tucking the lips. 

“Surely not,” he said slowly, now turning to Harry, his voice teasing, “Mister obvious.”

Harry pushed him away but Malfoy just snickered. “Git.” Harry’s mutter didn’t do anything to the glee in Malfoy’s eyes.

Malfoy got closer again like he wasn’t worried what Harry would do to him next if – and when – he continued to make fun of him. He even let his fingers brush against Harry’s wrist fleetingly. Harry tensed when he felt them slide lower until they tucked against his own, almost like demanding attention. Shyly but there was still no doubt what Malfoy wanted – and Harry wanted the same.

Looking pointedly away, Harry opened his hand and instantly icy fingers intertwined with his, leaving Harry still feel warm. It was stupid, they’d held hands already when Malfoy had led them further away from the village and its habitants but back then it’d been more like a message to just follow quickly and now there was more purpose.

Harry hummed silently to himself, trying to act like he wasn’t about to jump out of his skin. Malfoy didn’t say anything about it but the way he was slowing down even more told Harry enough. He bit down his smile and squeezed the hand in his harder. He slowed down to match the other boy’s speed.

“I guess I should leave soon,” Malfoy said and finally stopped. Harry stopped too, suddenly feeling like dragging the other boy somewhere else so he wouldn’t have a chance to speak. He pushed down the urgent feeling in his stomach and tried to think something to say.

_I had fun today. Did you?_

_We should do this more often._

_I kind of like it when you didn’t point out again that I indeed didn’t have any plans for today._

_Do you want to stay with me forever?_

Harry shrugged and tried to smile. Malfoy snorted, shaking his head at the way Harry tried to look not disappointed at all.

“It’s not that I want to,” Malfoy continued, his ears turning red. 

“Oh, okay.” It was easier to breathe and Harry let his free hand touch the tips of the ears. Malfoy jumped a little, almost ducking away, but after a cough and an intense stare right in Harry’s eyes, he stayed put. Malfoy swallowed, perhaps trying to get more words out.

“You could come to my place for the night,” Harry breathed out. When Malfoy’s eyes widened, Harry bit his lip harder, now trying to hide hundreds of curses before he let them out. “I mean, for while!”

“For… for…” Malfoy cleared his throat again, following a little when Harry snapped his hand quickly away from his ear. Malfoy’s hand tugged against his, holding on tighter. 

“For a while!” Harry flashed way too wide smile and Malfoy stared at it, his eyes still wider than even Luna’s. Not many people could achieve such large eyes, Harry thought and immediately tried not to since the boy was staring at him with something close to distrust. Harry’s heart sank. 

“And why do you want me to come to your home?” Malfoy asked slowly, frowning. Harry resisted rolling his eyes.

“Merlin, can’t I invite you over without some ulterior motive?” 

“I don’t know. Do you have one?”

“No!” Harry tried to smooth out Malfoy’s frown with his thumb and tucked the light hair behind one ear. “I, just, don’t want you to go home yet. I mean, we could play something or read or, I don’t know, relax on my bed and just… talk?”

After one more agonizing second of a hard stare a hand in Harry’s started to loosen up and for a while Harry panicked Malfoy was going to let go for good. He didn’t. Instead the Slytherin leaned against the hand on his cheek, his brows disappearing somewhere up towards the hairline. A slow smirk took over his face, smoothing out the wrinkles. 

“Oh, and is that called ‘no ulterior motive at all’ nowadays?”

Harry was confused. He blinked and the smile on Malfoy’s face seemed to widen. Harry’s eyes followed it and despite not understanding the sudden mood flings of the prat, he couldn’t get angry or even frustrated. His thumb started to trace the lines of the lips on its own accord and the boy under his touch shuddered. 

“Uh.” Harry swallowed. “I just, I wanted, you know…”

Malfoy started to draw lines on his wrist with his index finger. “Yes, Potter? Anytime now.”

Harry tried to harden his eyes. “You’re so infuriating.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t get you at all.”

“How am I not surprised?” When Harry tried to withdraw his hand, Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. I just thought that you asked me so you could take some embarrassing pictures of me and show them to your ridiculous friends or maybe even push me out to the streets after undressing me and then getting your neighbours to laugh at me.”

Only Malfoy had the ability to confuse Harry even more after being confused already. Harry tried to shake the feeling away. “But why would I do that?”

Malfoy just hummed, snuggling more against his palm. It tingled under his breath. “Indeed, why would you.” He smiled slowly, like a cat. Harry let his thumb trace more lines. Then Malfoy whispered, almost so quietly Harry couldn’t hear it, “Maybe I can trust you too.”

“Huh?”

The warmth against Harry’s palm disappeared suddenly as Draco straightened himself and started to walk forward. Harry would have stayed there a little longer, watching the retreating back, but since Draco hadn’t let go yet, he dragged Harry with him, making him stumble. He wasn’t looking at Harry but he could see the way he walked, like a determined man facing a war or someone who could soon discover something that would change the whole word. Harry wondered what it was Malfoy was going to face – he also wondered if he’d let Harry stand by him while he did it.

Harry let his fingers curl tighter around the hand, let his fingers brush against the wrist where the pulsating beat mixed up with his own. The whole conversation felt one-sided, like Malfoy had been just dragging Harry along, but the word “trust” and a smile that had decorated it were the strongest thing in his mind and he knew everything would be just fine.

With a determined huff, Harry ran to catch up with Malfoy, smiling up at him as their eyes met. 

“So, you’re coming to my place then?”

Draco shrugged, like he couldn’t care either way, but Harry could tell. “Sure, got nothing better to do anyway.”

Harry felt like his heart was about to soar away with his mind as they passed the church once again, listening to the raging wind that was now pushing them forward. A chill ran through Harry despite the sultry air around them making it hard to enjoy the breeze. 

Malfoy made a shuddering, disgusted sound. “I think that rain of yours is about to start.”

Harry looked up and right then felt a drop hit his skin. Other drops followed the first one and suddenly it was raining like someone was pouring the water out of the buckets. The world turned white for a second and then the earlier rumble was more like a crash. Malfoy tightened his grip and then they were running. 

“Why is it that nothing good ever comes when I’m with you?” Malfoy shouted over the storm and Harry had to squint to see him through his glasses. 

“You really want an answer to that now?”

“What!”

“You really want—“ He shook his head and picked up the speed, making the water splash around his ankles. “Never mind! Just fucking run!”

And they ran. Through the rain that didn’t give up and the wind that tried to tear them apart but neither of them let go even if it would have been easier to run alone.

~*~*~*~

“Remind me, Potter, why did I think again that coming to your place and climbing through a bloody window in the middle of a fucking thunder storm was a good idea?” 

Harry wanted to laugh, he already felt himself shake from how he tried to hold it in, but quickly hid the growing smile as he took Draco’s hand to pull him in. The light, usually neatly styled hair was glued flat to the tall forehead and the water shone from the bare forearms. Harry felt his throat dry but didn’t say anything. Not even when Draco almost dragged him outside when he slipped, not even when he yanked the other boy back in, resulting with Draco pressed flat against his chest. Harry shivered, or maybe it was Draco. He was wet and cold but as he wrapped his arm around slender hips, he smiled widely. 

“You look like shit.” 

Draco’s eyes flashed angrily in the dim light that pooled into the dark room. His lips pursed as he stepped back, sniffing. 

“If I look like shit, I don’t know what you’d call yourself then,” he bit back. Harry grinned. The storm raged inside from the open window and the world flashed behind Draco, illuminating his already white hair even whiter. Harry felt water dripping off of him to the floor and they were just standing there, in the middle of his room and insulting each other. 

“What are you smiling at, Potter?”

Harry shook his head and went to close the window before his whole room was covered in water. For a while the silence buzzed in his ears until he turned back and let out a stuttering breath. 

He’d lied; Draco was gorgeous even when he was supposed to look like a wet rat. The shirt clung to his skin, showing the way his body was shaped and his soft muttering filled the room and everything felt unreal. Harry took a step towards him, drawing the eyes up to his and stumbled loudly to the clothes on his floor. He answered Draco’s soft laugh as they just stood there and stared, slow smiles climbing up to their drowned faces. 

For a while Harry felt like he was right where he’d always wanted to be but then there was a click of a door and steps in the hallway. 

Someone was coming. 

“Shit,” Harry hissed. He looked around and stopped at wide eyed Draco who probably understood too that being in his room at eleven o’clock in the evening when Harry was supposed to have stayed in his room the whole night was bad news. “You need to hide!”

Draco looked around wildly. “Where?”

His room was a mess, Harry realized. Clothes everywhere and even the space under the bed was full of his Quidditch equipment. The door handle was pressed down and the door swung open without hesitation. Harry acted. He pushed Draco backwards towards the door until he stood rigidly behind it. He looked like a horrified statue as Harry turned to the other side of the open door, leaning against it and smiling in a way that he hoped looked carefree. 

“Dad! Everything alright?” 

James stood at the doorway, his hand still on the handle and looked down at his son with exhausted eyes. Harry winced but kept the smile going. He shivered and realized for the first time that he indeed was standing in the middle of a dark room in wet clothes, looking guilty as hell. His smile dropped.

“Okay, Dad, I know this looks bad but I can explain…” 

James sighed and let the door go. A part of Harry relaxed and he almost checked how Draco was doing but realized just in time it’d only cause more suspicion. 

“I think you don’t even have to explain,” James said, snapping Harry back to attention. Draco was very quiet and he wondered if he was even breathing. He really didn’t fancy having a fainted Draco Malfoy in his room in the middle of the night. “Your clothes are quite self-explanatory.”

Harry looked down, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. “This? Oh, no, this is just…”

James lifted his brow. “Wet clothes?”

“Exactly that, erm.” Harry tapped the door. “You know, I felt like opening the window and didn’t even realize how much it rained out there.”

They both looked at the window. The rain hit it so hard it wouldn’t have been a surprise if it broke the glass in the process. Harry shrugged awkwardly. He was sure he heard a soft, almost inaudible huff of laughter and for a second his eyes flashed to Draco. He frowned as he saw the amused eyes and a smile hidden behind a hand. 

“Is there somebody with you?” 

Harry flushed red.

“No! No way, Dad. It was just… Mrs Fyre’s cat.” His heart made a leap and he saw his chance. “Yes, I opened the window when I saw the cat and let it in.”

James’ face turned red and he looked like he didn’t know whether or not he wanted to laugh or just give up and go to sleep. From the corner of his eye Harry could see Draco shake. 

“Harry,” James sounded almost desperate. “No offence, son, but you’re a terrible liar.”

Harry knew it was probably true but it didn’t mean it couldn’t hurt at all. He cleared his throat and tried to look like he had no idea what his dad was talking about. 

“But it was the cat,” he tried again and James cut in.

“Is she in there?” James looked around with narrowed but curious eyes, rubbing his neck. Harry stood closer to the door like it’d stop the man from seeing behind it.

“There’s no one in here,” he stuttered as James took a step in. “Really, Dad. I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s just me and the c—“

“Your girlfriend or whatever.” James tried to look under the bed but Harry didn’t let him further in, blocking his way with his body. “I know you went out today even when your mum told you not to.”

“How do you know that?”

James looked at him like Harry was an idiot. “We talk to each other, you know. We _do_ have a good relationship, after all.”

Harry shuffled on his feet. “Yeah, of course, sorry. Didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered. James took one more step in and stood now chest to chest with Harry. When James tried to sidestep him, Harry moved at the same time. 

“Dad, really! I’m sorry I went out and came back late but…” James took another step in. “Oh, come on! There’s no one in here!”

James stopped and fortunately stepped back. “Sure. I heard someone laugh and you don’t let me in. Surely there’s no one in there.” His voice was grave but his lips quirked up. Harry tried to relax but the knowledge that his dad half knew Malfoy was in his room and tried to see him made him antsy. Bloody Malfoy and his incapability to stay quiet.

“Uh, yeah, it’s the cat,” Harry repeated, looking James straight in the eye. “Again.”

They kept the eye contact for what felt like hours until James finally sighed and went back to the hallway. 

“Fine. It’s the cat then,” he muttered, looking pointedly at Harry. “But you’re still in trouble for being out after the curfew.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Harry’s eyes widened and he stuttered, “I-I mean, I wasn’t even out.”

James didn’t listen. He hesitated for a moment before turning away. “Be careful, okay?”

Harry blinked, daring to share a confused glance with a very still Malfoy. “Uh, sure?”

When James didn’t move away but instead stood with his back turned to Harry, kicking the beige carpet with the toe of his slippers, Harry considered just closing the door. But then James abruptly turned around, his eyes gleaming and hand shaking as he put it on Harry’s shoulder. His voice wavered as he said, “I know you’re already a big boy and you’re old enough but.” He swallowed hardly. “But, as… as you do it, remember that… that I don’t want to become a grandfather at the age of thirty-six.” 

Then, with another squeeze on the shoulder, he turned around and almost dashed back to the bedroom he shared with Harry’s mum. Harry blinked after him, closed the door and only as he saw Malfoy, who was now curled into a shaking ball, he realized what his dad had just said. 

His face morphed into a horrified expression. Dread seeped into his stomach. He felt like he wanted to die.

And Draco continued shaking on the floor, hysteric bursts of laughter escaping his silent mirth. 

Harry groaned, sinking into his bed. The lion roared under his head as he sobbed away the past few minutes. He felt his face burning as the bed dipped under another weight and a hand caressed his hair aside from hiding his face. Draco looked down at him dazzling and out of breath. Harry tried to glare at him had it not been to the expression he so rarely saw on the other boy’s face. But at what price he’d gotten a chance to see it? Harry groaned again and buried his head into the pillow. 

“So, when do you reckon your father wants to have some grandchildren?” 

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” Harry mumbled. Draco huffed a laugh, bending to press a kiss on Harry’s cheek. His lips were still cold, reminding Harry of their state after the storm. He forced himself up and meet the amused boy but gave in to the urge to show his tongue to him. Draco just sighed like he was tired of dealing with such a troubled child and started to move his fingers on Harry’s back. 

“Not that I can give you any biological ones,” he sighed again. Harry leaned to the caress, feeling the memory fade away despite Draco continuing to tease him about it.

“I don’t need any biological kids,” Harry answered, humming as the hand came up to his neck to play with the hair. A nose snuggled against his throat, the hot breath tickling his skin. Draco leaned his head against his shoulder.

“My father kind of wants biological kids.”

Draco was relaxed against him but Harry felt himself freeze. He opened his eyes slowly as no other words were offered and looked down to the messed up hair. 

“Is that because of this pureblood stuff?”

“Sure,” Draco hummed. “He wants an heir to continue the family line but I guess they can still get another kid themselves if they really want one.”

“Oh.” Harry played with the long fingers resting on Draco’s knee. His skin really was white, beautiful, almost transparent, but what stood out most to Harry was how good their skins complemented each other. Light against dark. Draco opened his hand and Harry let his fingers follow the lines on his palm. If he remembered right from the Divination class, Draco had a long head line. It suited him, being ambitious, smart and all. Maybe divination wasn’t always such bullshit.

Draco seemed to hesitate. He lifted his head and Harry immediately missed the warmth. He shivered again and finally got up to get them dry clothes. Draco shuffled on his bed for a while as Harry quickly changed his clothes until he said, “I think he was a little disappointed in me when I told him about us.”

Harry dropped the shirt he was fishing out from the drawer. He spluttered, turning to Draco who was looking at his hands. “Y-You told your father?” Suddenly he remembered Draco’s message of asking his father about today and it all felt more real. Draco seriously had asked about it from Lucius bloody Malfoy. Harry opened his mouth to say something. Anything. Something like when was he supposed to expect the Malfoy head come and execute him? When was he coming to slaughter Harry’s entire family for Harry touching his precious son? 

Harry started to pace his room when Draco continued with a prim voice, “Of course I did. I told Mother too. I don’t get what’s with you and your need to hide this from your family especially when _they’re_ supposed to be the light ones, the fucking heroes of the entire wizarding world, saviours and what the bloody hell else.” He levelled Harry with a glare and Harry sat back down next to him, waving his hands as he talked. 

“Yeah, but nothing good will come out of it!” 

Draco just looked at him like he couldn’t understand and Harry couldn’t see how he couldn’t. 

“Why? Are they homophobic or something?”

“Well, no!” Harry hurried to say. “I don’t know. Maybe? No?” He felt stupid the more he thought about his reason. Not that he could say it to Draco that he wasn’t sure if his parents could accept Draco himself. 

Draco’s sharp eyes kept him pinned down for another second when he finally sighed, leaning his forehead once again against Harry’s shoulder. “I understand if you’re not sure. You can wait to tell them, if that makes you feel better,” he said but he sounded disappointed. Harry couldn’t make himself to touch him, too ashamed of everything that lying still brought him. Somehow he knew that one day either Draco or Harry’s family would get hurt because of him. When Draco’s hand sneaked to his, he kept looking at the blue wall, closing his eyes only when he almost told Draco he was scared of rejection. That his parents would hate him for liking a Death Eater’s son. For liking someone like Draco Malfoy. Draco would leave. Harry pulled him into a hug. 

He didn’t want that.

“Your parents then?” Harry’s voice was scratchy, like he’d just spent the past minute to swallow all the truths to push out more lies. It hurt. 

It was amazing how Draco was ready to leave Harry’s issues alone when he clearly wanted to pick out everything he didn’t like about them. He just leaned harder against Harry and Harry held him tighter. “Well, Mother was alright right away. She said she’d suspected as much considering how much I’ve talked about you for… uh, for a while now.”

Warmth started to get back to Harry. “Oh? How long exactly?”

“That doesn’t matter, Potter,” he sniffed. “Now shut up and listen to my story.”

He continued without waiting for an answer.

“Father was a little more difficult. He looked almost shocked at first but then aloof.”

That must have been the famous Malfoy mask then, Harry thought but considering how close Draco’s teeth were to his throat, it was for the best to keep his mouth shut. He was learning. Now that he didn’t want to piss Draco off he was starting to get how to keep him calm too.

“He didn’t say much about it so I feel like he was disappointed in me. I chose a person who can’t bear children. He must be disappointed in me.” He looked up at Harry, his expression tight but hopeful. “What do you think?”

Harry’s heart leapt. What did _he_ think? He, Harry? Deep inside he believed that the older Malfoy could never be happy without his perfect pureblood grandchildren but with how Draco looked at him, he couldn’t say that. Draco never asked for anyone’s opinion unless he wanted to hear it. The way he looked at Harry with openness told him that he trusted Harry. Trust.

_Maybe I can trust you too._

Was this a test too?

Harry took in a deep breath. “I don’t really know your father,” he started, taking a break to think. Draco’s expression didn’t give out any hints how to proceed. “But I think he loves you. And even if he was disappointed in you, it wouldn’t last. He could learn to live with it?”

Draco looked thoughtful for a while as he retreated back to lean on Harry. They didn’t talk for a while and Harry’s heart beat wildly, telling him he’d said something wrong. He’d almost stopped breathing when Draco finally said,

“You might be right.” He took in a deep breath, sniffing Harry’s throat. Harry fidgeted, feeling his pyjama pants tighten. “No. I think you’re right. For once.”

Harry didn’t comment on that. He was quite happy staying close to Draco. His hair smelled like rain and summer and he buried his nose deeper. 

“Oh yes, Father invited you to a dinner on Friday.”

Harry pushed Draco as far away as he could. The other boy looked baffled for a moment but Harry was already firing his question.

“Sorry, what?”

Grey eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “I don’t know why you insist on reacting so dramatically every time I talk about Father.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“And that’s the best comeback you’re able to come up with?” Draco looked amused. He ignored Harry’s spluttering and started to tear off his wet t-shirt. Harry went deadly quiet as more and more bare skin was released out of its wet cage. His eyes followed the way Draco’s flat stomach hardened with the movement, his arms raised above the head opening a clear view to the chest. He almost wanted to laugh nervously as he saw light freckles covering the skin. Maybe Draco’s spite against Weasley freckles had more to do with how he himself looked under his shirt.

But Draco looked nothing but confident as he threw the shirt over the back of Harry’s chair, smirking knowingly at Harry’s slag face. Harry rushed to close his mouth, clear his throat and force his eyes to meet Draco’s as the jeans were opened. 

“D-Dinner?” he said but his voice sounded faint. Draco hummed and took off his pants with an agonisingly slow pace – Harry wanted nothing more than get up and yank them down to his ankles to get over with it. But then he’d be in an entirely different trouble he wasn’t sure how to deal with yet. He shifted again, trying to sit in a more comfortable position. Discreetly he pulled his pillow over his lap but the discreetness was broken the moment the freaking lion pillowcase started to roar. Harry cringed, hitting the fucking pillow and making it roar again. He cursed himself as Draco sniggered but didn’t say anything about what Harry was clearly trying to do.

Maybe having his boyfriend wet and certainly in an evil mood in his room was a mistake after all. Then he remembered his dad’s comment and the raging hormones calmed down a notch.

“Yes, Potter, dinner,” he repeated now dragging down the jeans. Harry’s eyes fell to them for a while. “What’s with that pillow, anyway? What are you, ten?”

“Shuddup,” Harry muttered, looking pointedly somewhere where Malfoy wasn’t getting naked. “It was a gift. But why does your father want me there?”

He heard shuffling and a quick glance told him that Draco started to pull Harry’s shirt on with a pleased face. “Because he wants to get to know you, of course,” he said and started to pull on black and white checkered pyjama bottoms. It was easier to breathe. Until Harry realised that Draco was indeed wearing his clothes. They fit to him in all the right ways and it was even harder to drag his eyes off of his boyfriend. He didn’t even mind the way Draco wrinkled his nose as he took in his attire. 

“Why do you have such horrendous clothes, Harry? I swear I’ve never worn such rags.”

“Then take them off if you don’t like them,” Harry said without heat. When Draco flashed him a suggesting smile he decided to shut his mouth for the rest of the night. But then Draco sat on the other side of his very narrow bed, snatched the pillow from his lap not caring how Harry tried to draw his feet up to cover himself and finally lowered himself under the blankets and a new kind of horror hit Harry.

He’d asked Draco over but somehow he’d failed to realize what else it’d mean. 

Sleeping together.

In the same bed. 

Oh fucking hell.

While Draco kept moving around to find a good position Harry was even more aware of his raging hard-on and raging thoughts. He sat still like a tree until Draco muttered an order to _lay down already, dimwit_ and he found himself pressed against the hard chest, a heart beating over hundred miles per hour thudding against his back. At least Draco was as nervous as he was despite his calm tone as he bid him goodnight. 

Harry knew as he looked into the darkness and listened to the fading thunder that that night he would not sleep – not when, as Draco’s breathing evened out, the pale hand dropped lower in his sleep, closer to Harry’s abdomen and the fear of having to look the father of the owner of this hand in the eye next Friday took him over worse than any other fear in his life.

~*~*~*~

Written on February 20, 2018


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m starting to get both nervous and excited about this. I outlined the rest of the chapters so yes, I know how this ends. I’m not going to state an exact amount of chapters, though, since I’m not sure how much content I’m able to push into one chapter and so on. Also, I said I’d start updating more regularly, but, umm… I’m going to be the arsehole of this story here and take my words back. That’s because I didn’t know I’d have one more huge test coming up that’s bigger than any others and I really need to study for it as much as I can. Which means that my already limited time will be even more limited. 
> 
> Also, let me thank you all once again for all the comments and kudos! I got so much love for the previous chapter and I can’t believe it. I love you all! So much! I never thought Love Bites would get this much attention ;__;

Chapter 7

An image of Draco sitting next to him quietly, eyes cold and disappointed, didn’t want to fade away even when Harry opened his eyes blearily to the insistent poking on his side. For a while he blinked and the image stayed, until it moved for the first time that night. Harry drew in a sharp breath, jumping up, making Draco next to him drop his lazy smile. 

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Draco frowned, crunching up his nose. Harry had to take a moment before he could look up and a sigh of relief was almost on his lips as he saw that Draco wasn’t looking at him coldly. He tried to give him a reassuring smile as an unfamiliar look of worry flashed in the cool grey. 

“Nothing, just a nightmare,” he shrugged, shoulders stiff. “Sorry for waking you up.” Harry tried to look around without making it too obvious. The room was his, not an old room in some random wooden house. His broom was still leaning against the wall in one corner, not his mum, head bleeding and expression screaming disappointment as she, too, stared at Harry. The floor was empty of a giant snake and his wand was next to him on his side table. Harry swallowed hard. He was fifteen, not ten. 

Draco’s soft snort finally forced him to look away from the non-existent figures standing around his room. Draco’s expression was almost suffering as he rolled his eyes and flicked Harry in the arm. Harry hissed, rubbing the spot but his glare was pushed off with a hand sinking into Harry’s hair.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I was already up so don’t try to take the glory of being the one to _wake me up_.” Harry wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. Instead he just lifted a brow in a very Malfoy-like manner. It, too, was ineffective, as the blond turned back to something he’d probably been doing before seeing it necessary to wake Harry up. His head bowed over one of Harry’s drawers, Draco rummaged its contents like it was his own. 

When no explanation was voiced, Harry shuffled to sit next to Draco. “What are you doing?” He hesitated only a moment until placing a hand on Draco’s lower back. Draco continued like nothing had happened or no questions were voiced and he only leaned against the touch. A smile pushed out on its own and Harry was grinning like a loon as he watched his boyfriend probably breaking, ridiculing and stealing his possessions. And yet he didn’t quite mind, he realized. He let his hand slide along Draco’s toned back and when his fingers met his side, he pulled the boy against him easily. Draco fit perfectly there, he noticed, not being able to keep the odd sense of smugness away. 

Draco didn’t seem as impressed but gave Harry’s attempt only a suffering glance as he stopped his exploring to flick a stray hair away from his eyes. His hair was messy and Harry didn’t stop himself when he wanted to play with it. It was perfect, for Harry it always was, when it slid behind a pink ear. 

“Don’t mind me,” Draco finally muttered.

“Sure?” Harry tried to look just as exasperated. “Why don’t you just go right ahead and, err, do whatever you’re doing with my stuff.”

“I’m not doing anything with it,” Draco huffed. He muttered something about idiots under his breath as he kissed Harry softly. “Now shut up and let me criticise you.”

“So you’re doing something with it!” 

Draco didn’t bestow him with an answer. Wanker. 

“Potter,” Draco said as he drew out a muggle Walkman. “What in the name of fuck is this thing?”

“Um.” Harry bit his lip hard as Draco started to push the buttons, rewinding and then suddenly pausing the cassette. Gently, he tried to pry the device away from the boy before he broke it. 

“What the actual hell. I know it’s a muggle device but I didn’t know they had magic.” His eyes were so wide and his expression closer to disgust than wonder and yet Harry had never seen anything as endearing as Draco Malfoy discovering muggle technology. Harry snorted, shaking his head.

“It’s not magic, you twat,” he said, keeping his voice gentle even though Draco still seemed to take the statement as a personal insult. 

“I-I knew that,” Draco sniffed, now glaring at the rewinding tape. “But I didn’t know the muggles were capable of doing… that. Whatever that is.”

“Oh, yeah.” Harry lifted the Walkman, pressing the stop button. The room went silent. “This is called a personal stereo and it plays music.” He waved the headphones next and Draco took them warily. Harry let his fingers linger on Draco’s hand a little longer than was normally acceptable but Draco didn’t seem to mind. Instead he looked back to Harry like demanding more information. 

“You can hear the music through those.”

“Through these?” Draco grimaced, still holding the headphones as far away from his lap as possible. For some weird reason. “I have no idea how on earth one could hear anything through such a torture device.”

Harry burst out into a surprised laughter. “Torture device?” 

Draco looked conflicted and definitely like he wanted to murder Harry with the said torture device. Face flushed he said angrily, “Just shut it and show me, Harry.”

Harry showed him. He placed the headphones on Draco’s ears as his face went rigid and outright horrified but he let Harry have his way with him. It sent a tickle of something warm into Harry’s stomach. He watched Draco’s every expression, every tentative move as he touched the cord and the headphones on his ears and when their eyes met, he smiled. And he couldn’t stop. 

Then he pressed play and was laughing on the floor next. 

Draco’s eyes were about to bulge out, his face had a look of pure horror as the music blared out. Harry could hear even from outside that the song he’d stopped on was some song from Bon Jovi, probably Always. He spared only a second of thought that maybe he listened to the music too loud but forgot all about it the moment Draco threw the headphones as far away from himself as possible. 

He breathed hard as he yelled, “You call that moaning music?”

Harry winced, glancing at the door but he couldn’t hear anyone approaching. Then he remembered, with a crushing wave of relief, that it was Monday and both of his parents were already at work. He had no idea what time it was but the Sun was up enough to tell that it was at least past six when both of them normally left. He turned back to Draco who was now poking the Walkman with his finger like it could bite him any minute. The song on the mix-tape had changed to another, a song from Nirvana but he felt like sparing Draco from further torture. He stopped the music and grinned up at the accusing eyes. 

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” He nudged the bony knee with his elbow, still sitting on the floor. Draco kicked him, surprisingly gently. 

“It was horrid.” Harry gave him a pointed look. “Well, alright, it was peculiar. Not completely horrible.”

“Want to give it another go?”

“Merlin, no.”

They sat in silence for a while, Harry’s hands drawing pictures on Draco’s thighs when suddenly Draco got up, dragging Harry with him. He was still in Harry’s pyjamas, the shirt hanging on his slightly taller but slimmer form in a way that made Harry’s throat dry. Harry wrapped his arms around the waist, pulling Draco tightly against his own body. Draco’s lips pulled into a lazy smile as he leaned his head against Harry’s nape, his breath tickling. 

“I need to go,” he mumbled against his skin. Automatically Harry drew him closer, burying his head into Draco’s hair. It still smelled like storm, making his blood burn. 

“Do you have to?” He tried to keep the whininess away but Draco had an ability to make him act like a child. Harry hated it – yet he wouldn’t give Draco away just for a reason like that. 

“Yes.” Draco sighed. “Father’s expecting me for breakfast at eight.”

Harry finally glanced at the muggle clock next to his bed – the only present he’d ever received from his mum’s sister and her family when they’d spent that one and agonizing summer together – and saw it was almost half past seven. “Fine,” he mumbled. Draco probably hadn’t told his father he was going to be away for a night and it was for the best to not let him know either. He unwrapped Draco reluctantly, pursing his lip as Draco smirked at him knowingly. 

“Going to miss my fabulous self?”

“Sod off.”

“No need to worry, Harry,” he proclaimed, pressing a hand over his heart like a damn drama king he was. “I shall see you later this week.”

“Hmm.”

“You know, when you come to the manor.”

Harry blinked. “To the manor?”

Draco sighed tiredly. “Did you really forget about the dinner invitation already, you dimwit? Why am I not even surprised?”

“I didn’t forget,” Harry snapped, stung. Then he frowned and realized, with a sinking cold feeling in his guts, that he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten Lucius Malfoy. Forgotten about the deadly dinner where he’d meet his end. He blanched, feeling the blood run away from his face and probably the rest of his body too for suddenly it was hard to even stand without Draco’s warm presence against him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“I hope that wasn’t about Father.” Draco’s voice was tight but he didn’t look at Harry as he pulled the damp clothes on. He grimaced but didn’t try to steal Harry’s clothes or anything. Harry wouldn’t have minded, though. He quite liked seeing Draco in his clothes. 

“No, no, sorry,” Harry said, faintly. “It’s fine.” He hugged Draco again, this time from behind, placing a kiss on the soft neck. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Draco wore such a self-important expression that for a while Harry thought about cancelling the whole disaster. But he bit his lip and instead pinched Draco. 

“Oh, fuck you,” Draco hissed. Harry grinned, placing one more kiss on his neck before letting go. He pushed down the rousing panic as he saw Draco out from the front door – he’d refused to climb through a window ever again – and the house stayed fortunately empty. At the front door they stood, looking at each other awkwardly. Harry kicked the door absentmindedly, trying to stay calm and not just push Draco out in order to scream in peace. 

“So,” Draco started. Harry lifted his eyes to him and felt hot when he saw Draco looking at him intensely. Pink tongue pushed out for a second to moisten the thin lips. They were inviting Harry, calling him. And Harry didn’t have energy to fight back, not anymore, probably not ever again. He leaned in, pressing hard against him and tilting his head slightly when Draco answered with just as much intensity. His mouth was warm and inviting and Harry took it, took Draco, slipping his tongue in when Draco groaned. 

It was better than their first kiss with all the drunkenness. Better than the second with the tenseness. Better than the quick, fleeting kisses in the middle of conversations. But Harry knew that the next time they kissed, he’d decide that it was even better than the one they were sharing there and then. And probably, after weeks of kissing, maybe even months if they lasted that long, he’d decide over and over again that each kiss was a whole new experience that made Harry forget why he ever had thought he could live without Draco Malfoy.

Draco was the first to pull away and his first words didn’t exactly help keeping Harry’s improving mood up. “Will you remember to bring Mother a gift?”

“A gift?” Harry’s voice broke. Draco gave him a sharp look. “A gift. Of course, I remembered that.”

Draco’s smile was shark-like. “I’m sure you did. And you will.”

As he walked away, turning right at the gate, Harry watched him go. He hoped he found a good isolate spot somewhere far away from all the muggles of the village to summon Dobby and Apparate away. Harry’s eyes fixed on a flutter of a curtain in Mrs Fyre’s window. He held his breath as he expected the hooked nose and wrinkled face to appear to the window but the curtain stayed put. Harry closed the door quickly and decided for the sake of his own sanity that it must have been Mrs Fyre’s lazy cat that more often than not lazed around on the windowsill, giving Harry judging glances as sharp as his master’s. 

When the damp, fresh air was shut out, Harry banged his forehead against the wood, cursing out loud. No one answered and it was great. He cursed some more.

A gift. A fucking gift for the mother of the pureblood family of the witch or wizard you’re courting. Usually the courted one was a witch which is the reason the gift was presented to the mother instead of father – to respect the females of the house – but Harry guessed the traditional courting worked the same way with wizards too. 

Which meant Harry was actually courting Malfoy of all people. Courting. They’d just barely started dating and Draco wanted him to bring a gift. 

Cursing some more, Harry stomped to the kitchen to get his mind out of the whole courting thing. He yanked the cupboard open, taking out the box of cereals. It was only after he banged the door close with too much force than necessary he noticed a small, pink post-it note on the door. 

_Harry! Stay home until your father and I come home. We need to talk so don’t even think about going out. –Mum_

Harry glared at the note, grumbled it and threw it into the trash. _Stay home_. Harry scoffed. Sure. Where the hell would he even go? He didn’t feel like talking to Ron or Hermione – he was sure talking to them about going to a bloody dinner into a giant manor full of stuck-up purebloods was a perfectly fine conversation topic but then he’d have to explain why he was so nervous – and he sure as hell didn’t feel like going through library books to find information about pureblood customs. James had given Harry enough education of them because of his own background but even those tips wouldn’t help with coming up with good enough gift for Narcissa Malfoy. He didn’t fancy getting skinned for bringing a wrong kind of dowry either. His dad’s side of family wasn’t as traditional as some older pureblood houses and they definitely hadn’t followed the whole courting system when Harry’s parents had started dating. Sirius had explained once or twice when he’d been relaxed enough about the way both his cousins were courted back in the day and it’d been one ridiculous dance.

Harry wasn’t up to such a thing. He pushed the bowl of breakfast away, suddenly feeling nauseous. 

Sirius would know what to do.

Tapping the table, suddenly nervous, Harry glanced at the bin where he’d thrown Lily’s message. Then he glanced at the fireplace. When desperation started to wail in his stomach with new vigour – just a thought of keeping it all in, doing it alone, going to the Malfoys’ was enough to hit him hard with the truth of the situation – Harry jumped up and flooed without second thought. 

He stumbled out of the hearth with a cloud of ash surrounding him. Sirius seriously needed to sweep his fireplace more often. He coughed and dusted his clothes off in a familiar living room. 

“Uncle Pads, I need your help,” he started as he stepped towards the kitchen where the man usually sat at this hour on his day off. He stepped into the sun bathed room, looking around. “What would you get to a pure…”

Harry fell silent for a second as he saw not only Sirius but also Remus sitting at the table in their pyjamas, drinking tea. He batted his eyes at the way both men looked shocked and like Harry’d caught them doing something illegal, staring at Harry mouths wide open. Remus’ cup had frozen in the air, like the man was about to take a sip when Harry’d barged in. Something flashed in Harry’s mind, that he should be seeing something obvious here, but when the situation only stayed as confusing as a second ago, he shrugged and sat next to Sirius. 

“I didn’t realize you were here too, Uncle Moony,” Harry tried to sound light. He’d come to talk to Sirius, not Remus, but he guessed it wouldn’t hurt to talk to his other Uncle too if he just kept his words vague enough. He knew not much went past Remus and that’s exactly the reason Harry didn’t know how to proceed. 

He really hadn’t seen the situation of Remus having some kind of sleep-over at Sirius’ place. It was kind of weird but they were friends, Harry guessed. He slept often at Ron’s and despite their age, maybe even Sirius and Remus did that as they were the only single ones of the Marauders. 

Remus was the first one to come out of the shock. Slowly he put down the cup, glancing at Sirius with an unreadable face. Harry realized that he’d probably come with a lot of noise, him being irritated and such, and rubbed his head in embarrassment. 

“Uh, yeah, sorry I didn’t tell I was coming,” he said, clearing his throat. It got Sirius moving too, and soon he was sharing wide-eyed glances with the other man. Harry shifted in his seat, suddenly not sure he was welcome. He tried to swallow the feeling away. It was no big deal. Not really. He forced out a shaky smile. “Sorry. I’m not really supposed to even be here. I’ll just…”

He tried to stand up and was turning his back to his Uncles when Remus’ usually calm voice called him, rushed. “Harry, don’t go!”

Harry glanced awkwardly at them. “It’s okay. It’s my fault. Didn’t mean to just, you know, bark in.”

Remus closed his eyes, grimacing. It was okay, really. Harry tried to smile at the man. But then Sirius grabbed his wrist, eyes wild and panicked. “I’m sorry, pup! I was… we were just… Oh, Merlin.” He seemingly pulled himself together, making Harry unsure if Sirius was just being polite and really wanted Harry out of there or if he was okay with Harry staying. 

“Um,” was all he got out when he tried to say something reassuring. 

“Harry.” Sirius’ voice was serious. “You’re always welcome here, no matter when. Remus and I… we were just.” They shared that mysterious all-knowing-yet-secret glance again which made Harry want to just flee. It was like everyone else in the room knew something big that Harry didn’t and it made him feel so stupid. Clueless. Outsider. Remus sighed and continued for his friend,

“We just let our guards down and didn’t expect you this morning. Usually you sleep longer and, well.” There was the look again but Harry still sat down. Remus took a deep breath, now looking at Harry with a kind smile that was so familiar, so Remus that Harry felt ridiculous for his earlier thoughts. “There’s something we need to tell you.”

Harry listened. Sirius cleared his throat. “But later, pup. I think you needed some advice.”

“Oh,” Harry said, shifting again and slumping back, suddenly wishing they’d just went on with whatever they had to tell him. He frowned, curiosity nagging in his mind. He tried to read their expressions but even the expressional Sirius was giving his usual godfather grin – that’s what James called it – that meant he was all ears for Harry’s problems and nothing would move him from that. “Okay, fine. But you could still tell me that other thing.”

Sirius’ expression didn’t even waver. Remus on the other hand snorted, shaking his head gently. Harry sighed and threw his hands up.

“Fine, I get it.”

There was no escaping Remus now. The man simply sat there without any hurry, sipping his usual English Breakfast. Sirius ruffled Harry’s hair, messing it up more. Harry probably hadn’t brushed it today anyway. 

“So, this is only a hypothetical question, alright?” When he got nods for an answer, he continued, “I know, Uncle Moony, that you know a lot of things about blood status and stuff but Uncle Pads is more experienced with the traditional side of it, I guess. I think you’ve got more first-hand experience with it.”

Sirius gave them a weary face. “Oh, you have no idea. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” he sang, his voice laced with mockery. “Anything you need to know, pup. I got it all beaten into my spine. Though I’ve got no idea why you want to know about that stuff,” he added with a gloomy mutter, making Harry shiver.

“Just,” Harry tried to calm down. “Just curiosity.”

Remus looked at Sirius sharply. “Go on, Harry. Don’t mind Sirius. He’s just being bitter.”

It was Sirius’ turn to shiver and sulk. 

“Sorry, go on then,” he said after a while, grinning once again like the thought of his dear family hadn’t put him down at all. 

“Right. Okay, I was just a little curious about the courting system. Like what it includes, like what to get as a present to the mother on the first visit and what are the proper conversation topics with the father.”

Remus forgot his cup to his lips as his eyes widened at Harry’s question. Harry’s heart hammered, he mapped his escape plan just in case. The brown eyes looked at him like they knew Harry hadn’t asked the question just hypothetically. Sirius, on the other hand, looked thoughtful, scratching the shadow of his beard. 

“Well, the gift is often something quite pricey but not anything too much. You see, you can’t, for example, give any jewellery because it’s often thought as a gesture of showing off one’s wealth. Trying to outshine the house of the one being courted is not looked kindly. Instead the first gift has to be, while expensive, something to show the intelligence of the courter. For example, a spell or a potion recipe or maybe a book about some theory, like ancient spell creation or a rare book about the history of an influential pureblood house is a good choice. Later, when the courting process is closer to the actual marriage, you can give something that looks expensive since by then it’s seen as a gesture of offering your wealth to the family.”

Harry’s head swam, his mouth becoming a painfully thin line as he listened Sirius to give couple of more good ideas as the first gift. First gift. That meant Harry would have to give others if he planned to see Draco again. Even though Draco seemed changed, more open and ready to break out from his stiff pureblood mannerism, it was clear Draco wanted their dating to go at least somewhat traditionally. He’d, after all, been the one to remind Harry about the gift. And he hadn’t joked. Draco rarely joked about his family. 

Harry just and just resisted tipping the pan of tea over himself in order to get an excuse to get out of the room as he poured some into a dotted cup he always used at Sirius’ place. 

“As for the conversation topics, I suggest you…”

“Wait,” Remus interrupted, raising his hand. “Mind waiting for a while, Sirius? Thank you.”

Sirius and Harry shared a glance. Though, Harry suspected his was more towards terror since Sirius’ face was soon marred with the lines of worry.

“Harry, are you dating a pureblood?”

Harry couldn’t say he was surprised when he heard Remus ask it. He didn’t run either, though, as he picked the skin of his hand and thought. 

“No,” he said slowly. Remus looked tired and Harry winced. His hands suddenly became more interesting.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sirius put in, slamming his hands against the table. Harry flinched. “Are you telling me that our Harry is dating a very traditional pureblood and that’s why he’s asking… asking for… Oh, god, Harry.”

Harry winced and wrung his hands together. He nodded, giving his uncles a shaky smile. “Maybe.”

“Harry!” 

Remus only kept giving him a pitying glance. 

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Oh, come on! Sirius is pureblood, Dad’s pureblood! What the hell’s the problem with it?” 

“Language, Harry,” Remus said. “But I guess you’re right. Sorry.”

Sirius kept waving his hands around. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Harry,” he said tightly. 

“Oh believe me, I know what I’m doing.” Harry chuckled darkly. “I know perfectly well because I’ve known him long enough and known what kind of person he used to be. I also know his family well enough. They’re stuck up, bloody traditional and proud as hell and I’m not sure what I’m doing but I know bloody well enough that I care about him and I won’t back down just because of some pureblood tradition shit that he wants me to do! So could you two kindly stuff it and tell me what the hell I’m exactly supposed to talk to his father who, without doubt by the way, wants to kill me on spot for being only a half-blood and asking for his son’s hand for marriage one day!” Harry took a deep breath. “Oh, and all this without being able to produce heirs too. Isn’t that just fabulous or what!”

Silence rang in his ears as he tried to calm down. It felt like his blood was flowing too fast through his veins, making him shake and sweat. He noticed he’d closed his eyes only when he opened them and saw Remus, now a hand raised to his mouth, muttering into it silently, 

“Oh, Harry.”

And then it hit him. What he’d said. But he couldn’t take any of it back and the shaking became worse and he couldn’t give a shit. He’d said it and it felt good. He could breathe again and for the first time in a while he felt like he could do it. He’d come clean to the two most important people in his life and he’d lived. After that it’d be no challenge to face a man that had once been a Death Eater and a woman who was known of her coolness. 

He just had to think about Draco.

Harry sat put and gave the two shocked men a look that would definitely challenge even Voldemort’s. 

Sirius nodded once. Then twice. Then he grinned, his eyes warm and a hand on Harry’s shoulder, gripping it a way that made Harry’s face heat up and breath stuck in his throat. Sirius said, “You’re truly the son of the Marauders.” A burst of surprised chuckle left Remus’ lips and then the air wasn’t so heavy anymore. 

“What?” Harry shook his head, feeling his face to relax into a smile too. “What do you mean?”

A hand on his head was strong and safe and he leaned into it. “Because you went and wooed a pureblood boy with your unfailing charm.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I hardly went wooing anyone, Uncle Pads. It just kind of happened.”

“What kind of boy is he, Harry?” Remus leaned over the table. “Despite what you said about his family, I got a picture he was himself quite different from them.”

“I guess,” Harry shrugged, patting Sirius away as his godfather tried to hug him. He drew a line right there. “And I guess not. I mean, sure, he wants to date me and even wore muggle clothes for me. And…” Harry blushed, suddenly realizing he was actually talking about his gay relationship with two of his uncles. 

“And?” Remus urged on. Harry took a sip of his tea, finding it still surprisingly warm. 

“And took me out to eat to a muggle diner,” he muttered. “Because he knew I’d like it. Oh, but he made sure to ridicule the place very loudly in the presence of the staff too, so there.”

Remus looked baffled and Harry felt him. Draco had that effect on people. But that’s what made it more exciting and every time they met or talked, Harry was full of that feeling of unknown and suddenness. It was addicting, Draco was addicting. And he already missed him.

Remus hummed. “You seem to like him a lot. I’m glad.”

Harry just smiled. 

“He’s treating you well, right?” Sirius suddenly asked, still trying to stuff Harry against him. “I know you said he’s an okay bloke but I know purebloods, especially traditional ones, and they can be so bloody dramatic.”

Harry scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

“Pads,” Remus said gently, a weird smile on his face. “Do I need to remind you that you yourself come from such a House?”

Sirius frowned. “Well, no…”

“And that you just described yourself.”

“What?!” Sirius looked offended as he raised his nose. “I’m not like that lot, thank you very much.”

Harry and Remus shared a knowing glance. 

“Anyway, I still agree with Sirius. If he’s treating you wrong, I’ll…”

“It’s fine, guys!” Harry laughed, surprised, but warmth kept spreading inside of him. It was embarrassing as hell and his uncles fussed over nothing but Harry guessed it felt nice to know that if everything went horribly wrong, he’d have a place to go. He wouldn’t have to be alone. 

“And if you want to talk about anything,” Sirius continued, finally managing to get Harry’s head under his armpit. Harry wrinkled his nose and tried to push the man away again, laughing breathlessly. “Just come to us. Whether you’re in need of some advice like today or maybe just want to boast with your young love or maybe need some advice with dating blokes or maybe about how sex works between them or…”

“I get it, I get it,” Harry said breathlessly, finally managing to escape the strong prison of Sirius’ arm. Remus shook his head at them, affection smoothing the lines on his face. “Thanks, really. But I think I’m fine and I don’t especially want to talk with you about… about certain things between two guys but… thanks anyway.” He shuddered at the though.

“We could give you some good advice, though…” Remus said, his voice fading out as he, once again, shared one of those weird looks with Sirius. Sirius shrugged and then nodded, looking determined as both of them turned to him once again. 

“Harry, we need to tell you something,” Sirius began and Remus put in,

“But we’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell your parents or Peter and Maude just yet.” He looked almost sheepish as he said it. 

“You want to keep it a secret,” Harry repeated. “From your best friends?” He couldn’t come up with anything that would be so serious that it’d need to be kept a secret from the rest of the Marauders. A secret from people they trusted. 

But they were going to tell Harry and Harry had no idea why him.

Sirius winced and Remus looked guilty. “I know how it sounds but… we’ve been trying to test the waters to see how, err, this works before we told anyone.”

“This?” Harry raised a brow. 

Remus cleared his throat. “Yes, Harry.” Then he started to point between himself and Sirius, making it even more confusing. “This.” Harry felt like screaming.

“I still don’t get it.” Harry folded his hands and waited. It was Sirius who finally said, surprisingly calmly,

“We’re dating, Harry. Remus and I.”

Harry’s head was blank as he watched the worried faces. 

Remus looked unsure but finally said, “So, we kind of know about how it is to be a man dating another man. Maybe someday you want some insight about it or maybe more experienced view on things and we’ll be there for you.”

“You… you’re dating?” Harry said faintly. “You?”

Sirius smiled bashfully. “Damn straight, kiddo. Or damn gay. Whichever you prefer.”

Remus looked disapproving. “Sirius, I don’t think now’s a time to joke around.”

“Oh, relax, Moony. Now’s as good time as ever.”

“Harry, we understand if you’re confused or even disappointed but,” Remus sighed, “We love you and it’d mean us a lot if you could accept our relationship. You’re like a son to us both…”

Harry laughed. The situation was so bizarre, nothing like what he’d expected the moment he’d stepped out of Sirius’ fireplace but he couldn’t stop the laughter. “Merlin, you surprised me,” he breathed out. “Of course I’m happy for you two. Congratulation.” And he was, he really was. Even though he still couldn’t quite understand but now he could see it and he was happy for them. He even let the hug slide when both Sirius and Remus wrapped him into one. But only for couple of seconds and he sat down again once he started to feel like he could turn into a mush any minute. If Malfoy’d seen him, he’d have laughed. 

But Harry still smiled and couldn’t quite care. 

“Oh, yes, Harry,” Remus said after a while, still beaming. Relief was so clear on his face that Harry knew it must have been just as good for him to get it out of his chest as Harry admitting a part of his relationship with Malfoy to someone else other than Ron. That’s why he wasn’t ready when Remus said, “You didn’t tell us who that boy is.”

“Oh.” Staring intently at his whitening knuckles, Harry tried to put the cup down gently. It ended up clattering on the surface, tea sloshing around. He gave it a nervous smile. “Right.”

Harry could literally feel Remus’ eyes drill through his head but Sirius’ chuckle coloured hum made Harry relax as he raised his head. His eyes darted to the fireplace and for one blissful second he dreamed about just leaving. Running once again. But then he took in his two uncles – his _dating two uncles who knew about this stuff and loved him, for god’s sake_ – and Harry had no heart to get on his feet. Even if he did, he doubted they’d carry him away fast enough with all the weight of the already steadily growing guilt and fear in his chest. But when he thought about just coming out with the whole truth, the same nausea from the morning, when for a while he’d thought he was still inside his nightmare where his mum had been so _disappointed in him_ , because he knew what a lying coward her own son was, what kind of secret he was hiding from all of them, came back and all he saw was the rage. Not in him, but in them. 

Because Harry was angry with himself too so why wouldn’t they be. 

Draco was from a family that had brought a lot of grief for Harry’s family. Draco had insulted Harry’s friends, his mother. Lucius Malfoy had come up with a law against Muggle born children, a law that even Harry knew was wrong on so many basis if it got through the board. And Harry? Harry’d fallen for that man’s son, a person who maybe tried to become a better man but could decide any moment that it was too much hassle and just pick up from where he was left. Right from the slurs and bullying and being a spoiled brat. 

Maybe Harry didn’t trust Draco fully yet, after all. A bile rose to his throat and a horrified feeling sunk deep into his mind when he understood that what he’d just thought made him feel so much guiltier than any secret he was trying to keep from his family

Oh, Merlin.

Slowly, Harry tried to act like he hadn’t just had an internal crisis in his head as Sirius leered, saying loudly, “Oh, you dog! Want to keep your pretty boy all for yourself, huh? Not ready to share with your uncles.” Even Sirius’ dramatic swoon didn’t make his smile any more real. “Harry, you hurt me!”

Remus, who was still looking at Harry like he’d just read exactly everything that had went through Harry’s head, kept fortunately silent about Harry’s sudden mood. Instead he gave Sirius such a tender eye roll that made Harry’s heart ache. It was so easy for them. So familiar and tender. 

Harry wondered if he and Draco could ever be anything like that.

_Sirius had once been in a Black family tree but he hadn’t become his family._

_Draco wasn’t his family. Sirius had changed at some point. Draco might be honest with him._

Harry sighed and got up, his legs wobbling only a little. He took it as a good sign. “Yeah, right.” He patted Sirius’ shoulder. “I just think we’re not ready to go that far and tell people about us. You know, his family and all.”

 _Draco told his family already_. Harry felt like burning himself accidentally when he went towards the fireplace. 

Sirius and Remus gave him such understanding and pitying looks that Harry couldn’t meet their eyes. He wondered if he could even write to Draco for a while without remembering how he’d just practically blamed his own cowardice on him when it’d been Draco who’d been open from the beginning. 

“Good luck with the dinner, then,” Remus said as Harry swooped some powder into his hand. Sirius grimaced. 

“Oh, yeah, you have one of those now, don’t you? Are you going to tell his family at the dinner, then?”

Harry hesitated for a while. Then he shrugged and said, “Yes,” because it was partially true. Maybe the family already knew but it was their first appearance before the Malfoy family as boyfriends. The thought gave Harry chills. He took a deep breath. Waited a heartbeat. And then, “I’m just not ready yet.”

Harry flooed home before he could take it back, before he’d say something just as vague and stupid – the truth – before Remus and Sirius had a chance to react and ask him what he meant. 

The house was still empty as Harry stepped into the Potters’ livingroom. The silence was there to meet him and help him to realize that he’d said it. One more truth. And this time about the person he was dating. 

Harry wasn’t ready to tell them yet. No ready to tell about Draco.

Harry was a coward. Too afraid to repeat the events from almost six years ago and overall was a bad boyfriend who had horrible doubts about his boyfriend’s personality deep inside his mind. He sunk down to the white carpet, burying his face into his knees and breathed. Breathing was easy, breathing happened without him trying too hard. Life, on the other hand, wanted to punch him right in the gut and make him realize what an un-gryffindor he’d become since the moment at that Spring when he’d realized that Draco Malfoy was something so much more for him than a nemesis. He was someone Harry would kiss but he was also someone Harry’d once hated just as much as his family and friends still did. 

And yet Harry would still rather disappoint his family than see Malfoy’s face fall as he realized that Harry Potter wasn’t anything like he’d thought he was – like half of the people Harry knew thought he was. 

Even Harry himself. 

~*~*~*~

Written on March 12, 2018


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. My grammar sucks. A lot. Sorry about that. Please continue.

Chapter 8

The rest of the week limbed by so painfully slow that Harry suspected someone was using a time-turner on him. But there was no time-turner involved and definitely no clocks turned back when suddenly, almost without warning, Harry opened his eyes to realize it was finally Friday morning. 

He knew he’d thought the entire week that the hours were going past almost as slowly as years as he was stuck into his room or into the backyard, not being allowed to even meet Draco with his grounding ongoing. Sure he could have tried to sneak out and not give a damn about his mum’s alarms that would set off the minute he sneaked out of the house or maybe stolen back the invisibility cloak his dad had confiscated but after living through the rage of Lily, he didn’t want to risk it. He’d been able to negotiate his grounding to last only till Thursday so that he’d be able to go to the Malfoys that Friday and he did not want to risk losing that bargain. It was indeed a very tempting thought to not just go but if he didn’t Draco would kill him and then probably his father. And mother. And house-elf. In that order.

So when he woke up on Friday morning with twisting guts and a mental breakdown, the first thing he did was to skip breakfast. Somehow he knew that even a little bit of food would soon be found in the sink or the toilet. He still had hours before he was supposed to meet Draco at the church and this time he almost wished the time would have gone by as slowly as the rest of the week. 

Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

Bandage.

It was just like ripping off a bandage.

It’d hurt only for a moment but then it was over. He could do it. He was a Potter and a Gryffindor. 

A little dinner with an ex-mad man was nothing. 

Harry spent the rest of the day sulking, ignoring his dad when he came home and continued with his usual knowing stare he’d been giving for Harry for days now and then Lily who commented something about Harry supposedly being happy with having his way with regaining his freedom so fast. Harry didn’t feel happy and he didn’t feel free. But he wanted to see Draco so he sucked it all up and when it was ten to six, he left for his doom. He tucked the book of some mysterious (and probably dark) spells under his arm and marched down the road like a soldier on a mission. Sirius had owled him the book earlier that week with a note that pointed out more nitty-picky customs that Harry should probably be aware of. Even Remus had sent a letter of support for him the day before, advising him to stay quiet and listen when he felt unsure of something.

Harry felt only more nervous after that because when he was unsure, he did the exact opposite. But they were just trying to help him and Harry bit his lip, telling himself to stop blaming his uncles for the situation. 

He should have seen it coming the moment he’d followed Draco Malfoy into that Muggle diner. Or maybe even earlier. When he’d talked with him at Diagon or when he’d kissed him. Or when he’d sent confused glances at the handsome man over the Great Hall throughout the entire year or every time he’d felt a rush of adrenaline when he and Draco had chased after the Snitch in the matches. 

Yeah, Harry was at fault. But he guessed these faults paid off when he saw Draco standing around coolly in his formal wizarding wear while the Muggles gave him odd looks and when the other boy noticed him, giving Harry the most beautiful smile that made Harry almost drop the book. He smiled back. Because it was fine, he’d live. 

“You’re late, Potter,” said Draco as a greeting. Harry’s smile didn’t drop, though, as he stopped in front of the haughty boy. 

Harry glanced at his wrist watch. “Only two minutes!” Draco snorted but didn’t try to argue. Instead he gave Harry a look from head to toes and Harry shifted on his feet. He glanced down to his attire too. Hopefully it wasn’t too plain or too much. He was wearing his dress robes too but they were nowhere as fancy as Draco’s silver and blue ones that complimented his eyes. Harry’s were bottle green and wrinkly because he hadn’t been brave enough to encounter his mum to ask for an ironing spell. It was enough that James had caught a glimpse of him when he’d left and the look of astonishment had been enough to make Harry flee. 

Harry shifted again, still feeling the heavy gaze on him. “Well?” He kicked Draco’s shoe lightly. “Do I look pureblood enough?”

Draco hummed like he was thinking the question over as he smoothed out Harry’s shoulders and arms. His hands came to rest on his chest after straightening the collar. “I guess you pass. It might not be the best silk there is but the colour looks good on you.”

Harry hated that his heart gave a leap at such controversial words but there was no pushing down the heat that rose to his neck. His cheeks. It was still hot out so it was probably mostly that. Harry cleared his throat and messed up his hair, then remembered he’d been smoothing it down for hours now and tried to push it down again. 

“I-I guess you’re passable too,” he muttered, looking down to his shoes. They were too shiny, too uncomfortable compared to his usual sneakers but he couldn’t imagine stepping in front of Lucius Malfoy in anything else but his best shoes. Draco was wearing his best shoes too. But probably he owned nothing else but fancy shoes so…

Draco scoffed, pushing Harry into move. “Passable? Excuse me? Who exactly did you just call _passable_?” He looked actually shocked and Harry had to laugh. Draco’s lips pursed up even more, making him look younger than sixteen. Harry wanted to kiss the pout away but he was too aware of the eyes that were already ogling them too much so he kept his lips and hands to himself. He pushed his hands into his pockets, grin spilling out harder. 

“Probably you,” he said casually. “Can’t see other passable blokes around, after all.” 

“Oh, I’ll show you passable, Potter, and let’s see then who’s laughing.”

“I…” Harry swallowed, taking in the challenge on Draco’s face. “I’d like that.”

The challenge fell off of Draco’s face and something else, something more serious yet heated, entered his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Oh?”

Harry didn’t even notice they’d stopped walking, now standing in a narrow alleyway between the pub and the bakery. They were standing close to each other now, so close that their chests were almost touching with every inhale, so close that Draco’s usual musky smell filled Harry’s senses instead of the smell of the rotten food that seemed to have taken over the narrow path permanently. Draco's soft hands pressed against his cheeks, cooling them down, and his own hands found the bony hips, slender waist. Smooth silk. 

Draco looked mesmerized as his eyes dropped to Harry’s lips, indicating what he wanted. And god, did Harry want it too. His heartbeat pulsing against his neck, he took Draco’s wrists into his hands, first gently and then squeezed. The challenge was back, thin lips curling into a mocking grin that Harry couldn’t take as anything else than “are you scared, Potter”. Harry wasn’t scared. He narrowed his eyes and pinned Draco’s wrist against the rough tile wall with enough force to make Draco gasp in surprise. For a while Harry thought he’d hurt him but when he saw how Draco’s pale skin was pink, how he panted like he’d never been more excited, how he was already leaning forward to meet Harry halfway, all Harry’s fears dropped away. 

He kissed Draco hard, moaning as the kiss deepened. And when he drew back, he was met with the sight more endearing than he’d never even dreamed of. If he went and showed the Malfoys in what state he’d pushed their precious son into, Harry would never be welcome to even look at Draco again. 

Even in the shadow of the buildings Harry could see the way he’d reddened those lips, how they hang open as the grey eyes observed Harry with such warmth and heat that sent shivers down Harry’s skin. And Draco just stood there, leaning against the rough wall that must have messed up his expensive robes and letting Harry’s fingers still pin him down without fighting back – only inviting him for more. 

He trusted Harry. There was no doubt left in him as he stared back at Harry, a slow, satisfied smirk takin over his lips. And when he said softly, “I’m still not convinced enough, Harry,” Harry couldn’t breathe as the realization hit him hard. Realization that made him shake as the new information sank into the bottom of his stomach, spreading both warm and cold into him. 

He was helpless as he looked back into the cold grey. 

He was helpless as he finally understood that the reason he’d never been able to look away from Draco Malfoy was because of something so much more serious than a simple crush.

He could only see Draco. There was no one else but him and Merlin, he was everything Harry had dreamed him to be during those confusing hours back at school when his thoughts were full of the said boy.

But he was even more helpless as he realised he still thought the same way as couple of days ago, despite everything, that maybe Draco hadn’t changed, maybe he didn’t feel the same as Harry, maybe he was just leading Harry on to get on Harry and his friends, maybe it was an ultimate pranks meant to shame him, maybe he was leading him into a trap and once they entered the Malfoy Manor Harry would never step out again…

Maybe he didn’t like Harry as Harry liked him. 

The thought made him lean back, the guilt for even thinking like that as a worried, such a genuine look of affection, took over the previous lust on Draco’s face. Harry gave him a weak smile, running a hand through his face. He couldn’t. Not when Draco clearly wasn’t having as disgusting thoughts. He felt a hard bang as he watched Draco’s expression morph into one of wariness.

“What’s wrong with you?” Draco demanded, crossing his arms against his chest and thus creating more space between them. Harry couldn’t blame him. He gave him a shrug, his mind whirling for an answer. 

Draco leaned back against the wall while Harry took a stance against the other side. He sighed. Draco was tapping his foot against the ground, frowning. “Harry? We’re going to be late from dinner if you keep sulking like that,” he said nonchalantly but clearly wasn’t feeling that way. “You know what my father thinks about people who are late.”

Harry made a hum that meant pretty much nothing. Draco gave an impatient scoff and continued, “He feeds them to our peacocks. Did you know we have peacocks? Well, of course you didn’t because you’re making us late and haven’t seen them yet. So come out with it because I can’t take you to my parents when you look like the earth has swallowed your favourite broomstick.”

Harry took one more wary look of his boyfriend’s pursed lips and frown but didn’t see the frustration in them that was apparent from his tone. He did look like he wanted to drag the answer out of Harry but he also looked like he genuinely wanted to hear what was wrong with him. It made Harry smile slightly but it also made him want to tell everything. 

Maybe he should. What was the harm? 

Other than Draco getting pissed off at him, of course. Other than him leaving him. 

But would he? 

Harry cleared his throat. Looked Draco in the eye. There was only one way to know. “Why aren’t you angrier with me?”

Draco’s frown deepened. “Um, what?”

“I mean, why aren’t you angry that I still haven’t told my parents? About you and me.” He ended up pointing between the two of them awkwardly. Draco gave him a look that made him feel stupid and small. Harry simply straightened himself into his full height, glaring the other boy down. 

“Are you serious right now?”

Harry shrugged. “Yes.”

“Like, you want to talk about this right now?”

“When else?”

Draco sighed and slumped against the wall again. “Whatever. Let’s talk about this then,” he muttered but continued with stronger voice. “But you have the shittiest timing ever, Potter.”

Harry had enough shame left to feel self-conscious of his timing. Surely going straight from the make-out session right before the dinner with his boyfriend’s family wasn’t the most ideal time to have a serious conversation. But Harry stood his ground because why not. When there were things to get out of the way, it was best to deal with them right away. He should have done that with every issue but he was only human. Sometimes even he was afraid. 

“You can yell at me about my timing later, right?” Harry said. “But I’d really like to know the answer why you aren’t more disappointed in me.”

Draco gave him such a long and confused look that Harry almost started to blabber more but remembering Remus’ advice he kept quiet and waited. Finally the blond said, “You’re such a moron, Harry.”

Harry bristled a little at the insult but still kept his mouth closed. 

“Why would I be angry about it? I mean, we haven’t even dated that long.”

“Couple of weeks,” Harry agreed with a nod. 

“Yeah, couple of weeks. And I’ve really liked those weeks, you know.”

Harry gave him a tentative smile which Draco answered. “Me too.”

“Anyway, I’m not angry because it’s not such a big deal. I mean, I don’t understand why you’re making it such a big deal about telling them.” He rolled his eyes. “Even my parents were okay with it.”

“Because…” Was it too much to admit it? “Because I don’t think my parents would be as okay as yours.”

Draco frowned. “Really? Why?” Then, before Harry had time to think how to answer that without hurting the boy’s feelings, an understanding dawned on Draco’s face. “Because they hate me? And my family?”

Harry had no way to deny that. He could only listen to Draco sniff angrily and finally scoff, “Great. Fine. I understand.”

Not even distant laughter or soft chatter from the streets were enough to break the heavy silence around them. 

Harry couldn’t shut his mouth before the question was out, “Do you trust me?”

He cringed when he saw Draco’s eyes narrow. “Yes. Do you not trust me, then?”

“I do!” Harry rushed to say in panic. Draco’s eyes narrowed even more. 

“Really?”

Harry faltered. He could only shrug as he said in defeated voice, “Yeah, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“I mean…” his voice faded out. “You’re not going to start making fun of my family and friends again? Right?”

Harry hated himself more and more as Draco’s face fell. He felt like taking every word back, like turning back time, when hurt flashed in Draco quickly, leaving only the Malfoy he’d known for years at school. The cold bastard that put his indifferent façade on wherever he went – not the Draco he’d learned to know and care about during those amazing weeks together as boyfriends. 

Harry wanted to take his words back. He really did. But he didn’t want to get back to bottling his feelings up inside of him and straight out lying to Draco’s face. Especially when he himself couldn’t look away from the boy, wanted to spend days kissing him, cuddling him and wanted to know every little secret that he was holding inside of him. He didn’t want to lie… but even telling the truth seemed to be the wrong approach and Harry just didn’t know what the right thing to do was. 

“Draco, I’m sorry but you know you’ve been kind of an ass in the past,” Harry said in a rush. It was probably not the best idea to continue talking when he was panicking. But he couldn’t stop himself. Not now. “But I really, really like you now and I just wanted to be honest with you.”

Draco didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at Harry. “I mean, I do trust you! But there are some things I just need to be sure of before I can do it hundred per cent. You understand, right?”

This time Draco scoffed. It was a reaction, it was enough. “Draco, please, I’m sorry I said it like that. I think you’re amazing. Re-really beautiful and strong and, just, shit, so bloody brilliant that I don’t know how to even breathe when I’m with you.”

Harry placed a hand on Draco’s arm. He didn’t push it away. “Can we, maybe, talk about this? I mean, I’d feel much better if we were just clear with each other about these things. Wouldn’t you?”

There was still the silence but Harry was still touching Draco’s arm. He squeezed it harder, taking a step closer. He could now hear how Draco’s breath stuttered, how his chin was so stiff he could hear his teeth grinding together. “I-I really like you,” Harry said, swallowing down the nervousness that was trying to push up his throat. “Maybe even love you.”

Draco closed his eyes. 

“I don’t know yet how deeply I feel about you but I know I’d be so messed up if this… doubt inside of me just… just made you hate me or made me so unsure I wouldn’t be able to give my everything to you the way you do with me.”

He gave Draco an unsure smile. “Okay?”

“Just,” Draco snapped but then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just shut up for now, Potter.” Harry winced at the way his surname was used. He could take that. He’d kind of deserved it. His hand was also pushed away but he tried not to let it bother him. 

“So,” he said, fidgeting on his feet. “I guess I’ll just go home then?”

This time Draco laughed. But it wasn’t a nice laugh. Harry really missed that warm, playful smile he’d so easily wiped off of his face. Why was he an idiot again? 

“Go home? I don’t think so.”

Harry blinked. “Uh?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “We have a dinner to attend to. To which we’re late and I’m going to blame it entirely on you.”

“Oh.” Harry’s heart gave a leap as he looked at Draco’s still emotionless face. But he wanted to still go to that dinner. That had to mean something. “So the dinner still happens?”

“Of course it does. My parents are expecting us and it would not be polite to cancel this late.”

“Oh.” _Right._

“And believe me,” Draco hissed and grabbed Harry’s arm so hard that it took everything from Harry to not to wince. His eyes were stabbing him with daggers, an unpleasant smile took over his face. “I’m going to enjoy this dinner with every cell of my body.”

Harry cringed as the truth behind those words dawned on him and if he’d been nervous about the dinner earlier, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. Draco didn’t spare him another glance as he summoned Dobby to take them to the Malfoy Manor and Harry had no choice but take the elf’s hand and get pulled into his doom if he ever even wanted to kiss Draco Malfoy ever again.

~*~*~*~

Written on March 26, 2018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust me to mess up my own plans. So this chapter was supposed to be about the dinner with the Malfoys but look who added a little twist right here. This part was supposed to come up later in the story but for some reason I thought it was for the best to deal with the issue now as I remembered the anguish Harry was in in the previous chapter. And this give me a great opportunity to make Harry suffer which I won't pass! All I'm going to say is that Harry's going to love the family dinner time with pissed off Draco and the rest of the Malfoys...
> 
> This chapter is also much shorter than the others because I’m out of time. I’m also pretty sure I won’t be able to update next week since two very important deadlines are coming up that week. Thank you for all your love and attention and please leave a comment~ I wish you all a happy week!


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